Without You
by 20BlueRoses
Summary: Finally the tie of brotherhood has started to mean something again. But even though Cal and Ethan have fixed the fragments of their relationship, a cruel twist of fate is determined to keep them apart.
1. Prologue

So, I was planning to wait until I'd near enough finished this story before starting to publish it, but I got a bit excited and wanted to at least put up the prologue. First few chapters are written but the story is only just beginning to unfold.

Please tell me what you think

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Prologue

Cal shuffled in his seat. His eyes flickered to the door he had come through not long ago and then back to those he shared the room with. The room was populated with small plastic desks situated at regular intervals and each desk held one or two visitors. Cal wondered if it was normal for it to be this busy and then reminded himself he wouldn't be returning to find out.

The floor was a dark plastic and completely unremarkable, however it seemed to be the focus of most of the visitors' gaze. Cal scanned the room and caught only one other man doing the same. The man was younger than him, with a shaved head and a tattoo creeping out the top of his t-shirt. Their eyes met and the stranger gave Cal a fleeting nod of encouragement. A woman a few seats along was crying. Her partner squeezed her hand but winced with embarrassment when her sobs grew more audible. Across the room, a middle aged man jumped to his feet and dashed back out of the door.

Cal's hand habitually reached into his jeans pocket for his phone to check the time but found nothing more than an old receipt. Before he had reached this torturous room he had been commanded to hand over his personal belongings. When he had asked why he was told it was for security purposes, but no-one had chosen to clarify whether they were protecting visitors' security, or inmates'.

He hadn't told anyone he was going to visit Taylor, not even Ethan. He couldn't bear the thought of his little brother's reaction; a long, condescending lecture, a searching look of concern. Yet, he could hear Ethan's voice like his was right next to him – _So let me get this straight. You're going to see her, in prison, to tell her that you're over her?! Yes, Caleb, that makes perfect sense._ Cal considered, not for the first time, how infuriating it was that his conscious sounded exactly like his brother. He ran his hand through his hair and told the Ethan in his head to shut up.

Finally the other door opened and a prison guard strode through, followed by a sea of women uniformed with orange tabards. Cal gave a sharp intake of breath as he searched for Taylor and found himself overwhelmed with the smell of his own aftershave. He had told himself he wasn't going to make an effort for her but he found himself selecting a well-fitted new top, clearing his face of any stubble and daubing copious amounts of aftershave on regardless.

Taylor was one of the last to enter. While other women had virtually ran to their visitors, Taylor strolled slowly with a look of absolute indifference on her face. She sat down, ran a hand through her hair and then used the same arm to learn on the desk.

"Hey, Cal," she said.

Cal gulped. For a moment he felt as if he had gone back in time to those first few dates, where she had stolen the confident man he usually was and replaced him with a nervous, bumbling idiot. He forced himself to look at her, _really_ look at her; to see beyond the blonde hair and blue eyes to the callous and cruel liar that had tricked him.

"Thanks for agreeing to see me," he eventually replied.

"It's not like I had anything better to do."

"No? Well, I suppose there aren't any other men in here to con."

Her lips curved into an insincere smile. "Is that why you've come? To see how many digs you can make?"

"No, but while I'm here, one or two won't hurt." He paused. "How are you finding your new home, Taylor?"

"I'm sure it's been a great comfort to you while you're crying yourself to sleep at night," she said, putting on a voice. "Nasty Taylor broke my heart but at least she's locked up in prison." She flattened her hands on the desk and leant forwards towards Cal. "I don't regret a thing."

"I do! I regret meeting you, I regret having sex with you, I regret _ever_ letting you into my life."

"But that's your mistake," she interrupted. "You may have me painted as this heartless bitch but let me tell you something, Cal, I chose my men carefully. I know your type a mile off - womanisers, players, men who will hurt anyone just to get their leg over." She scoffed. "I've done some bad things, but only to the men who deserved it."

"I treated you well," Cal said quietly, unable to meet her gaze.

"You were one of the better ones," she agreed.

His eyes snapped to Taylor's. He hadn't expected her to agree. Deep within his chest the gnawing ache he'd felt for days after her lies were exposed was beginning to resurface and he sat up straighter as if posture could eliminate such heartache. He reminded himself why he had come, the words he had rehearsed in his head so many times since submitting the visiting order – _I don't love you anymore. I don't even care about you. You got my money but not my heart or my mind. I'm over it._

"You're right," Cal continued, "I have been unkind to women in the past. But you were different, Taylor, I would have done anything for you." He shook his head. "I know you never the felt the same, I understand that now. But that's your loss. Not mine."

"Nice speech," she said.

Cal exhaled. He forced his mouth into a smile and nodded once. "Goodbye, Taylor."

He got up from his seat and headed towards the exit without once looking back.


	2. Chapter 1

Thank you so much to those who left reviews - I'm glad you enjoyed it.

I just want to mention that I know this isn't the most exciting chapter ever published. But it's the start of the story, setting the scene and I promise there is much more drama to come. So please bear with me.

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Chapter 1

Ethan had only been on shift two hours and three coffees had gone cold already. Strictly speaking, it wasn't the busiest of shifts, but many of his patients demanded that little bit extra attention, and who was he to deny them that?

Mrs Jones in cubicle three was intent on telling him he looked just like her grandson and spent more time pinching his cheeks and cradling his hands than listening to him explaining she really needed to take her beta blockers. When Ethan had cleared his throat and asserted his best authority she had burst into tears and told him shakily that it was ever so complicated remembering all these things.

With Mrs Jones' only son and his family living abroad in Australia, she had no-one to help her maintain her health. Ethan had been on the phone to Social Services to arrange a drop-in carer for her, when the mother of the young boy he was tending to started screaming for help.

Little Alfie had fallen off his bike that morning, resulting in a badly broken arm and a bang to his head. The head CT had come back clear and yet Alfie was had suddenly become barely responsive. Ethan placed an oxygen mask over his mouth, rushed him into Resus and relayed all his vitals to his colleagues.

As well as the sudden decrease of GCS and shallow breathing, Alfie had a rash across his stomach and chest which depicted an allergic reaction to the painkillers he'd been administered. Ethan gave his young patient a shot of adrenaline and it was only a few seconds before he seemed to breathe easier and his eyes fluttered open. His mother, frantic with worry, was not easily calmed and it took Ethan some time to assure her that Alfie would be fine.

And then Jessica, who had been admitted following an overdose of over-the-counter tablets, was someone who truly needed his time and care. After a sudden change of heart she had phoned an ambulance for herself and had received treatment so swiftly that no real damage had been done. However, Jessica was still in a state of shock and looked terrified every time Ethan had to leave her alone in her cubicle.

Jessica's mum had died little over a month ago and she was still heavily grieving. As well as becoming an orphan at twenty-seven, she was struggling to cope with the additional responsibilities of clearing and selling her mum's old house. She told Ethan, through sobs, that it had become too much for her and she the thought of continuing in so much pain seemed like an impossibility.

He sat with her for a longer time than his superiors would have permitted and let her tell him all about her mum. He had considered, at points, telling her that he had also lost his mum, but instead settled with a generic "it does get easier," and provided her with the obligatory leaflets on bereavement counselling.

Ethan was surprised when Jessica thanked him for all his help. He hadn't considered himself particularly helpful at all, more cliché ridden and awkward. Treating physical symptoms came easier to him than psychological but there was something about Jessica and her situation that made him glad she was his patient, rather than another doctor's. She kissed him on the cheek before she left and he blushed and advised her to speak to her GP if she felt that low again.

By the time his shift had finished, Ethan felt drained. He removed his glasses, polished them on his scrubs and returned them to his face. All he wanted to do was get home and sit quietly for a few hours. However, he knew how unlikely that was. Cal had declared that he intended to spend his whole day off on the sofa playing video games, which would certainly disturb the peace.

However, Ethan was greeted with silence as he got through the front door. As usual Cal's belongings were scattered around their lounge, a dirty t-shirt over the chair arm, an old lad's mag on the table, a stained coffee mug on the floor. Ethan sighed at the familiar choice between tidying up after his brother and allowing his flat to become a sight akin to a teenage boy's bedroom. He called his brother's name and got no response. Then again, it was after 7pm, no doubt Cal had succumbed to the temptation of the pub!

Ethan collected all of Cal's errant possessions and plonked them in a big pile outside his brother's bedroom door where there was no chance they could be mistaken for part of the furniture. If Cal was at the pub, Ethan knew there was a large chance he would be woken in the middle of the night by his brother stumbling through the front door and crashing around in the kitchen trying to prepare a drunken snack. He cringed at the thought. However, just for now he was glad of the space. It had been a long day and he didn't think he could summon the energy to deal with Cal.


	3. Chapter 2

Thanks again for the reviews.

Loved the episode last night - all it needed was one last chat between the boys at the end!

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Chapter 2

Ethan was surprised that it was his alarm, rather than his brother, which woke him. Although he was almost certain Cal wouldn't have made it home without waking him, he still knocked on the bedroom door before pushing it ajar. Previous experiences of entering without a warning had taught him to knock. However, on this occasion the room was empty, the bed unslept in. He tried Cal's phone but it went straight to the answer machine, where his brother's pre-recorded message informed him that he had better things to do than answer the phone right now. That or he'd lost his charger again!

Ethan drafted a text which he could send to Lofty or Max to enquire whether they had any idea of Cal's whereabouts. It wasn't unlikely that they had been out drinking together and Cal had either crashed at theirs or eloped with a girl. Ethan almost hoped it was the latter; although he usually disapproved of his brother's attitude towards women, a drunken fling might be a sign he was finally getting over Taylor.

He reread the text and then shook his head and deleted it all. Cal was an adult; he didn't need to check up on him. He knew that Cal was due to start work as his own shift ended and so would have the chance to catch him later and find out where he'd spent the night.

Yet he couldn't resist, on seeing Lofty in the staff room, to dig for a little information.

"Good night?"

Lofty looked at him blankly. "Nothing special."

"I expect Cal was a state as usual," he said, trying to force an upbeat voice.

"Cal? Haven't seen him for days."

"Oh." Ethan tilted his head to the side and frowned. "So you didn't all go out for drinks last night?"

Lofty shook his head. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," Ethan said. "Yes, absolutely fine." He straightened his stethoscope and signalled towards the door. "My shift awaits!"

It was a testament to the patient with food poisoning that he managed a whole 45 minutes without throwing up on someone, but a symptom of Ethan's usual bad look that that someone was him. He assured the apologetic man that there was no need to be sorry and rushed to the staff room to change his scrubs.

He used the two minute breather to dial Cal's number but it still went straight to voicemail. He left a rambling message about drinking and notifying people where he was, that his brother would no doubt tease him about later – _Nibbles, you couldn't be more awkward if you tried!_ – and sighed at his theory of Cal waking up on a hotel floor with no idea how he got there.

Back in the department, things were getting busier as the victims of a three way car crash were brought in to be restored back to full health. The man Ethan was treating was one of the more severely injured. From the sounds of things, he had been the one to blame. His car had swerved across the carriageway only stopping when it hit another, flipping that car onto its roof. The third car was unable to slow quick enough and crashed into the existing carnage. Though the passages in the third car only had cuts, bruises and minor whiplash, the passenger from the second car was still unconscious having taking a nasty knock to her head when the car overturned.

Ethan's patient was intubated. As well as bad bruising to his chest from where the airbag had deployed, he had several broken ribs and a punctured lung, all of which had been swiftly treated. However Ethan was beginning to piece together a theory that his patient had been ill before the crash, potentially causing the collision. His ongoing lack of consciousness didn't fit with any of the physical injuries.

As Ethan arranged a scan, his mind wandered again to his brother. He was trying to decide his strategy for when he saw him later but couldn't decide whether this incident was worth a reprimand or whether he should save that for whatever disaster Cal would drag him into next.

Ethan wasn't surprised when Cal didn't arrive promptly for his shift. Timekeeping was not his brother's strong point, especially when combined with a hangover. Even sober, there was always something Cal deemed more important than getting to work in time, an emergency that only he could see.

So after one final futile attempt to reach Cal by telephone, Ethan made himself a coffee and waited in the staff room. Half an hour passed, then forty-five minutes. It was just about to reach a full hour of tardiness when Mrs Beauchamp burst into the staff room.

She looked at Ethan and tutted. "I don't suppose _you_ know what has got into that brother of yours?" she asked, sharply.

"He's here?"

"Heaven forbid he actually turns up for a shift," she ranted. "No, he's not here, or I would hardly be wasting my time searching the department for him, would I?"

"I was waiting for him myself actually," Ethan said. He frowned. Why did Cal always do things that would get him into trouble?

"Well, while you're waiting you may as well help out. We're short staffed as it is, the last thing I need is one of my doctors doing a disappearing act."

Ethan shuffled in his seat. He was tired, having already clocked his full weeks' worth of hours in just three days. He cleared his throat to explain to his manager that he really wasn't capable of another shift, that just because Cal was his brother it shouldn't fall on him to cover. But Mrs Beauchamp caught his eye and glared at him and left him with no choice but to jump to his feet and get back out into the ED.

Under his breath he muttered a solemn proclamation. "You owe me, Caleb. Again."


	4. Chapter 3

Massive thanks to those who reviewed. Please continue to do so as I really appreciate hearing what you have to say.

I'm currently writing chapter 9 (of approx 14) and I just wanted to say that I know these chapters aren't particularly lengthy but there is much more to come.

Story is picking up now, so I hope you enjoy :)

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Chapter 3

By the time Ethan got home it was half way through the night. However he wasn't sure if it was the darkness that made the flat unusually creepy or the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. Cal still wasn't home. He still wasn't answering his phone.

It was well over 24 hours since he last knew the whereabouts of his big brother.

The double shift had left Ethan weary with hunger and he heated up the quickest thing he could find in his cupboards – a beef and tomato Pot Noodle. It was Cal's food supply, but Ethan figured as his appetite was caused by covering his brother's shift it was now his by default. Besides, it wasn't like Cal never took his food without permission.

Ethan only managed a few mouthfuls before the noodles stuck in his throat and he started to feel sick from the artificial flavour. Why Cal liked these things was beyond him – _Never underestimate the simple things in life, Nibbles, a good Pot Noodle and a slice of bread._

Ethan took his glasses off and placed them down on the coffee table. The room instantly turned fuzzy. He sometimes removed his glasses when he needed to think; it was as if blurring the scene around him helped him focus better, limit the distractions.

Of course, it wasn't the first time Cal had disappeared without any warning. As a teenager, he often walked out the house during arguments with their parents and didn't return home for days, staying with a friend or whichever girl he was romancing at the time. His disappearances used to drive their mum frantic with worry but Cal always turned up later, completely unharmed and wondering what the fuss was about.

And then after their dad was killed, Cal absconded without even considering if his mother and little brother might need some support. He was gone for nearly two months before tearfully phoning to say that he'd moved to Leeds, got a bar job and would transfer the Medical Degree he was part way through to The University of Leeds once the new term started.

Even in more recent years, Cal had gone to work in America without feeling the need to tell any of his family until he'd had to explain why his was unable to visit for Christmas.

Ethan knew he'd be angry if his brother fled again, especially as they were beginning to rebuild their relationship and were closer than they'd been since teenagers. However, none of Cal's belongings had disappeared with him. Ethan was near certain he wouldn't leave behind his expensive shirts and brand new laptop unless he hadn't had the choice.

He rubbed at his eyes before replacing his glasses. On his phone he searched the number of his nearest Police station and dialled it, hitting the call button before he changed his mind.

"Hello?" he said. "Yes. I need to report my brother as missing."

Exhausted, and even with a description of Cal circulated around the local Police, Ethan barely managed an hours sleep and was awake well before his alarm.

Being a Doctor was never easy after a bad night's sleep, but being a concerned brother was harder. Ethan could barely concentrate at work and survived on autopilot in cubicles, performing in a half-hearted way that didn't go unnoticed among his colleagues.

When he ended up in Mrs Beauchamp's office he was almost glad as he didn't think his legs could keep him upright any longer. He propped his head up with one arm and rubbed furiously at the ache in his forehead.

"What's got into you today?" the Clinical Lead snapped.

"I'm tired," Ethan replied, "and I-"

"I'm tired," she interrupted. "I'm _sick and tired_ of my junior doctors consistently letting this department down!"

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut. The headache didn't ease. "Mrs Beauchamp," he said, braving a look at her. "Caleb's missing."

"Well, yes, I'm well aware of that," she started. She squinted at him and her expression marginally softened as she realised the context. "Go on."

"I phoned the Police last night." He slumped against the back of the seat. "I didn't get much sleep after that. I'm sorry I've not done a very good job today."

Connie slowly shook her head, ignoring the apology. "Do you have any idea where he could be?"

"None at all," Ethan admitted.

"Okay," Connie said. "Okay. Right, Doctor Hardy, you need to take the rest of the day off. Sleep. And then do whatever you need to do."

"But, work-"

"We will manage one way or the other. We always do."

Ethan registered his manager's gentle smile with surprise.


	5. Chapter 4

Thanks to those that reviewed. Apologies this has taken so long to be uploaded - it's been a busy week.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please let me know what you think.

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Chapter 4

A loud noise threw Ethan from his sleep. He jumped out of bed and stumbled into the hallway expecting to see his brother by the front door looking as nonchalant as always, especially if he knew he was in trouble.

But the hallway was empty and the cause of what woke him up remained a mystery; just like his brother's whereabouts.

Ethan showered quickly then paused in his kitchen unsure whether breakfast was appropriate in the middle of the afternoon. He settled for toast and was still munching his way through his second slice as he left his flat in pursuit of the Police station. He had given them all the details he could think of yesterday but somehow that didn't seem enough.

It was a battle to see an officer face to face at first. The man on the desk told him they had logged the file and would do what they could. But just as Ethan was contemplating asking for a manager, another officer appeared behind him, introduced himself as PC Owen, and told him to follow.

Ethan hadn't been in a Police interview room since he was seventeen and being forced to give a statement in relation to his father's death, despite the fact he had been at home and fast asleep when it had happened. Even though he had been assured it was just a formality, he had panicked as questions were thrown at him and ended up begging to leave.

He felt as if he was a teenager again and his stomach churned. Suddenly the officer was the last person he wanted to talk to, but he had to, for Cal's sake – _man up, Nibbles._

"We're yet to locate your brother," the officer started, "but we do have some information."

Ethan pushed his glasses further up his nose. "And is that… is that something which might help?"

"Does the name Taylor Ashbie mean anything to you?"

Ethan shivered involuntarily. "She's Cal's ex-girlfriend. Well, sort of. She's a con woman - got away with fifteen thousand pounds of his money. Well, my money actually, but-" He took a deep shuddering breath. "Anyway she got caught. She's in prison now."

"I know," the man replied. "And our records show that a Caleb Knight visited her in prison two days ago."

Ethan felt as if his body suddenly got heavier. He gripped the sides of his chair for support. "He, what?"

The officer opened his laptop and niftily typed in his password. He loaded a video on the screen. "Can you confirm this is your brother?"

Ethan squinted at the screen as he saw Cal stride in to the room and take a seat. "Yes, that's him."

The officer nodded and fast-forwarded the CCTV making Cal's nervous fidgeting apparent. It wasn't long before Taylor appeared and he resumed the video back to regular speed. He didn't speak and so Ethan focused solely on the recording of his brother trying to hunt for any clues that may give heed to his whereabouts. But after only a few minutes Cal got to his feet and left without another look at Taylor. The officer left the video on pause.

"Did it look to you like they were arguing?"

Ethan frowned. "I don't think so. Cal's very animated when he's angry."

The policeman scribbled something in his notepad. "Had he mentioned anything about wanting to visit her?"

"No. But Taylor was a bit of a sore subject between us, I doubt he'd mention anything to me."

"Even as his only brother?"

Ethan bowed his head. "He was very busy pretending to be fine."

"From a bit of investigation," the officer said, "I can see that the mobile number used to alert the Police to Ms Ashbie is the same as the one registered under your name."

Ethan felt his cheeks go red. "Ah, yes."

"Did Cal agree to that decision?"

"He didn't know. He was besotted with her. Even though he knew what she'd done, he would have taken her back in a heartbeat. I couldn't let that happen, couldn't let her hurt him again!" Ethan paused. "He can see now that it was the right thing to do."

"Then why do you think he felt the need to visit her in prison?"

"No idea," Ethan replied instantly. "Do you think Taylor has something to do with his disappearance?"

"No, at least not directly. We have to consider the possibility that your brother was so upset at their conversation that he _chose_ to leave. Perhaps he felt as if he needed to get away for a while."

Ethan stared at the policeman. "No," he said, "No, no, he would have told me. At the very least he would answer his phone."

The police officer sighed. "It wouldn't be the first time though, would it? I can see from my records he was logged at missing back in 2002."

"That was different." Ethan began to pick at a fingernail. "Our Dad died; his coping mechanism was to flee." He spluttered as he realised what he had said. "I mean, then it was! It's not like that this time. All his things are still at the flat. Besides, if he was going to leave it would have been straight after Taylor, not now." He paused. "I know my brother."

The officer nodded, but it was a nod of acknowledgment not agreement. "Does Cal have any mental health issues?"

"None."

"Any concerning symptoms following his relationship breakdown with Ms Ashbie?"

"He was devastated, naturally, but he's okay now."

The police officer was silent for a moment. "Doctor Hardy, from my investigations, as well as what you have confirmed today, it seems likely your brother has left of his own free will. Cal's an adult with a full capacity for decision making and a history of disappearances."

Ethan closed his eyes. When he reopened them a few seconds later the officer was still watching him. "No, no, something's not right."

"I know it's a worrying time for you," the policeman replied, "but I'm confident Cal will be home within a few days."

"And if he's not?"

The policeman gave him a sympathetic, tight-lipped smile. "It's approaching 72 hours since his last known whereabouts. At that point the case will be passed on to the Missing Persons Bureau. They will continue to do what they can but we have identified Cal as a low risk case. I'm afraid this means their work won't be intensive."

Ethan straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. "Looks like I'll find him on my own then."


	6. Interlude 1

Hi, thank you again for the kind reviews. I'm glad you're enjoying it and finding it intriguing.

Hopefully this part will answer a few questions... but create a lot more.

Please let me know what you think.

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Interlude

For a tiny, liberating moment when Cal came to, he forgot where he was. But when he stirred a dull ache shuddered through his body. A moan escaped his lips. In the moment of pain his eyes had fluttered open and despite the swelling of his blackened eye, the dingy basement returned into his vision.

Even though he knew he was unable to, Cal instinctively tried to move. The effort jolted his shoulder and the pain travelled to where his wrists were tied tightly behind his back and around the concrete pillar. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the dried blood crusting on his face.

Every time he regained consciousness he fought to remember how he'd ended up bloody and bruised in a stranger's basement. Being unable to remember events was not a unique occurrence for him; there had been many drunken nights where he had woken up in someone's house without knowing how he got there. However, he could recall enough to know this was not one of those times. The visit to Taylor played clearly in his mind but after that there was nothing.

His throat ached from thirst. He licked his lips, desperate for some moisture, but all he could taste was blood. The floor beneath him was hard and the cold of the concrete was beginning to smoother his body. He was determined not to surrender to the shivers that threatened to engulf him; he knew the pain from being beaten up would only increase with every movement.

The Doctor in him had already assessed his own injuries. It was difficult for him to examine himself, particularly without unrestricted arms or hands to check wounds. He knew he'd been knocked out, presumably from a heavy blow to the head, however he was clueless to whether he was unconscious for a critical period of time. He was experiencing slight dizziness, but he knew that could be as much from the dehydration as the head injury. Although his chest felt tight, he wasn't having difficulties breathing and his ribs weren't so sore to be broken. Cal declared himself as stable.

His thoughts drifted to his little brother. He wondered what Ethan thought he was doing, whether he cared that he'd gone. He wouldn't blame his brother if he was relieved to have the flat back to himself. They had been close until their Dad died. But Cal couldn't bear to be in the house with constant reminders of what had happened and so packed everything he could into two suitcases and fled for the station, picking the first train he found and ending up in Leeds.

He'd got hideously drunk that first night there and somehow made friends with a couple not much older than him. They agreed to take him in as a lodger and put in a good word for him at the bar where they worked. It suited his immediate need to cut all ties with home and forget about the tragedy he left behind.

His first few weeks there continued to be fuelled with drink and drugs, ensuring he was inebriated enough to supress any feelings of guilt he had for leaving. He even filled the deed poll paperwork while under the influence and changed his last name to Knight, something that he deemed powerful and independent.

But one hungover morning he realised how much he missed his brother and how upset his mother would be if she learnt of the state he had got himself into. Those thought kept him sober for long enough to convince the University to let him continue his degree the following September, on the provision he dropped back a year. He had then phoned home to hear his brother's voice and surprised himself by bursting into tears and telling his family exactly where he was.

He missed Ethan now as well. If there was one time he needed his little brother to come and save him from the mess he'd got into, this was it! He silently promised himself that if Ethan helped him now, he would never expect him to do so again.

A bang from somewhere above him shook Cal from his daydream. Fear flooded him and he suddenly felt violently sick. He pulled his legs up to his chest and leant his head against his knees. He winced slightly as his leg grazed a cut on his forehead, but the pain from his bruised body was overwhelmed by the noise of his own heartbeat in his ears. He held his breath and listened for another noise. Minutes, even hours, later and there was no further signs of activity.

Since first waking in the room days ago, no-one had checked on him. He wasn't sure whether the people who kidnapped him would return or whether they would leave him tied up and in pain for as long as his weakened body would last.

And he wasn't sure which option frightened him more.


	7. Chapter 5

Thanks to those who reviewed. I'm so glad you enjoyed it as I had been looking forward to posting that part. I almost feel cruel now going back to day-to-day hospital things in this chapter! Buuut, there may or may not be more Cal in a few chapters time ;)

Please post your thoughts

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Chapter 5 

Ethan stood in the centre of the department reading the same patient's notes for the fifth time. He jumped as his name was called and snapped the file shut. He spun around expecting to see an irate Mrs Beauchamp, telling him off for his lack of concentration, however it was a very different woman in front of him.

"Jessica," he said, recognising the young lady who he'd treated following her overdose a few days ago. He scanned her smart clothes and glowing skin. "You're looking much better."

She beamed at him. "I feel it! Had my first day back at work today and it went so well. I just thought I'd pop in and say thank you."

Ethan forced a smile. "Thank you accepted. Thank you for the thank you!"

They stood facing each other for a few moments of silence, neither quite managing complete eye contact. Just as Ethan held up his file and began to explain that he had work to do, Jessica was fishing a scrap of paper out of her pocket.

"My number," she said, holding the screwed up paper out to him. "You were really kind the other day. I thought I could return the favour sometime in the form of a drink?"

Ethan snatched the paper off her before anyone could see. "I- We-" he stuttered, "We're not allowed to date- I mean, drink, with our patients."

"I'm not your patient anymore."

Ethan tilted his head to one side. He opened his mouth and shut it again. He scratched his head. "I have someone I need to see to," he finally replied. He ran off before Jessica could call after him.

He was in the cubicle staring at his patient and his patient's worried girlfriend before he remembered that he still hadn't read the notes. He cleared his throat to delay the inevitable moment where he had to speak, and scanned the patient for signs of what might be wrong. There were no obvious contusions, nothing that gave any indication of why the man had been admitted to the ED.

Ethan could feel Lofty watching him. News of Cal's disappearance had spread round the department with the ferocity that only the most interesting of gossip could. Everyone had given Ethan their best wishes and assured him they shared his concerns, yet they carried on with their life as if nothing had changed. However despite their frivolous attitude, they were astute enough to notice Ethan was not his usual meticulous self. Staff seemed to hover around him wherever he went, close enough to check he was holding it together but retaining that distance that meant they didn't have to get involved. He was fed up of lying to people that he was okay.

"Everything alright, Doctor Hardy?" Lofty prompted.

"Yes, yes, absolutely fine." Ethan pushed his glasses back up his nose as he squinted at the board behind the bed which clarified the patient's name. "Mr Barrett, what can we do for you today?"

"Well, he's been missing for days!" his girlfriend interrupted. "Went to work in the morning and didn't return until now." She glared at Ethan as if it was his fault. "Says he doesn't remember a thing!"

Ethan opened his mouth to speak and found no words came out. He could feel his hands beginning to shake and placed them behind his back so that no-one could see.

"What do you think Doctor?" the patient asked, sounding curious rather than afraid.

"Yes, that does seem rather odd," he finally managed. He forced a smile. "I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of it though. Have you experienced anything like this before?"

"Never, Doctor."

"And have you had any recent bangs to the head?"

"Not at all."

"Okay. I'm going to arrange a head CT to be on the safe side and run a full set of bloods." He turned to the nurse "Nurse Chiltern, can you arrange that please?"

Ethan barely waited for an answer before escaping from the cubicle and finding salvage at the nurse's station. He gripped the desk with both hands and took several deeps breaths. He visibly jumped as a voice from behind him called his name.

"Guess who I've been speaking to?" Robyn grinned.

Ethan felt his legs go weak. "Who?"

"Your number one fan," the nurse replied. "Jessica."

"Who?" Ethan repeated. His heart sunk right back to where it belonged. Of course, she hadn't meant Cal. "Oh right, yes, her."

Robyn continued to smile, oblivious to the hope her original statement had fleetingly given. "She's very pretty, isn't she?"

"Is she?"

"Gorgeous."

"I hadn't noticed," Ethan said. He hoped he didn't sound harsh; it was no reflection of Jessica's appearance, but he'd had far more important things on his mind than a girl, no matter how attractive she may be.

"Well take my word for it," Robyn said. "And she _really_ likes you. She was worried she'd been a bit too full on though, you know, giving you her number like that, but I said don't be daft, pretty lady like you, I'm sure he'll give you a call." She paused, finally taking a breath. "You will call her, won't you?"

"I, err-" Ethan said.

"Oh, _please_ call her." Robin positioned her hands as if she was praying. "You two would make such a cute couple."

"I really don't think it's appropriate." Ethan sighed and walked away, pursuing a second attempt at finding a moment of breathing space.

In the men's toilets he splashed some cold water on his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were getting worse by the day and his hair, usually neatly gelled, was a mess. Since declaring a few days ago that he would search for his brother on his own, he had done nothing but hunt for clues.

He had turned Cal's room from top to bottom, searching every pile of clothes and braving the mould ridden mugs hidden in unsuspecting places. There was nothing.

But last night he'd had a sudden brainwave and acted upon it straight away. He needed to see Taylor; to demand from her what she knew about Cal's whereabouts. He had submitted the visiting request and all he had to do now was to wait for her response. It was one step closer to finding his brother.

As long as Taylor would agree to see him, of course.


	8. Chapter 6

Hey - as always, massive thanks for the reviews.

To be honest, I've been delayed posting this chapter due to slight writers block further down the line. I have the next two chapters after this written and ready but the third chapter (an important one!) has not been coming together as I would like for a while now, and I don't want to get to the point where I have run out of story.

This chapter is a direct follow on from the previous one, same day, same patients etc. If anyone has forgotten, Mr Barrett is the patient who went missing for a few days and turned up out the blue with no memory of what happened, much to the concern of his girlfriend. Jessica is Ethan's ex-patient who came to the hospital to give him her phone number.

Enough of my ramblings and here is the chapter. Your feedback is loved.

* * *

Chapter 6

Mr Barrett's test results had all come back clear and Ethan was at a complete loss as to the reason for his memory loss. He hoped that it was as complex as it seemed and it wasn't a case of his foggy and distracted brain letting him down. He scanned the results once more and shook his head with confusion.

He heard his name and tried to pull his face into a professional expression before turning. He doubted he succeeded and was glad it was just Lofty who needed to speak to him.

"Are those Mr Barrett's scans?" Lofty asked. "Let me guess, all clear?"

Ethan nodded. "What makes you say that?"

"I think he's lying to us." Lofty looked over his shoulder to double check the patient had stayed in his cubicle. "The girlfriend reckons he has no recollection from the last three days but when I was making small talk with him just now, he was raving about Ricardo's penalty."

"Ricardo?"

Lofty grinned. "Holby FC striker. Scored the winning goal two days ago."

Ethan thought for a moment. "Two days ago? So during the period he allegedly can't remember."

"I sent the girlfriend for a coffee if you want a word with him."

Ethan planned to trick the patient into admitting he was lying however by the time he reached the cubicle, thoughts of Cal ever-present, he had changed tactics. He folded his arms and made eye contact with the man. "Care to explain yourself?"

The patient shrugged. "Don't know what you mean, Doctor."

"You haven't really suffered any memory loss, have you?"

He looked from Ethan to Lofty and back again. He chuckled slightly. "Okay, okay, you caught me out." He paused, leant forwards and whispered conspiringly. "Look guys. There's this girl I work with, she's _mega_ hot. We had a few drinks after work and she was all over me. Mind blowing sex. Next thing I know we're on our way to Devon!"

"So let me get this straight," Ethan said. "You lied about your memory loss, wasted hospital time and resources and worried your girlfriend half to death all because you couldn't keep it in your trousers?!"

The patient looked slightly offended. "I could hardly come clean, could I?"

"She thought you were missing!" Ethan exclaimed, his arms waving dramatically. "Do you have any idea how scared she must have been?"

"Ethan," Lofty said.

"Do you know what?" Ethan continued. "It's a shame you aren't missing. She'd be better off without you!"

"Doctor Hardy!" A voice interrupted. "My office. Now."

Ethan froze as he registered Mrs Beauchamp's voice. He knew the best form of damage limitation would be to apologise to the patient straight away, with his manager listening. But he couldn't bring himself to utter the words, not when the fraud of a man was okay and his own brother was missing.

He followed Mrs Beauchamp in silence and was soon perched on a chair in her office for the second time that week.

"Doctor Hardy, if you are unable to conduct yourself professionally at work then I strongly recommend you take some leave."

"No, no, I'm fine," Ethan replied. He felt as if he had said that sentence a hundred times over the past few days.

"I don't think you quite understand." Mrs Beauchamp folded one leg over the other and smoothed her trousers. "Take some leave before I am left with no choice but to suspend you."

Ethan was silent. His gaze wandered to the picture of Mrs Beauchamp and her daughter that she had framed on her desk. They were smiling. Even the Clinical Lead had behaved unprofessionally when her relationship with her daughter was under strain, everyone knew that. But even though he had only acted in the same way as his superior, he was horrified at how he had been unable to control the outburst. The scene kept on replaying in his mind. He shook his head, trying to rid it of the thoughts.

"Don't think of this as a punishment," Mrs Beauchamp said, surprisingly softly. "I know you are under a lot of strain at the moment. But you've got to understand, I can't have you speaking to patients like that in my department."

Ethan nodded. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are."

* * *

Ethan shut his front door and leaned against it, staring numbly into the hallway. He could tell straight away the flat was still empty but called his brother's name regardless. The silence that answered him was painful. He shut his eyes, refusing to let any tears escape.

Ethan knew that Cal would think his brush with suspension was hilarious; he could just imagine the weeks of teasing it would have led to, how it would have been mentioned any time they had a disagreement – _Don't get too angry, Nibbles, might get yourself suspended._ He always let Cal wind him up, no matter how hard he tried not to care. Yet now he would give anything to hear his big brother's jokes.

Ethan finally made his way into the lounge and shrugged his work hoody from his shoulders. A slip of paper fell out. Jessica's number. He felt a pang of guilt at another thing he'd got wrong today; if what Robyn said was true and Jessica did like him, he hoped she hadn't left feeling rejected. She seemed like a nice girl and even though the he had no intention of starting a relationship with anyone, especially an ex-patient, he knew he should have given her less of a brush off.

Of course, Cal wouldn't have let the professional boundary stop him if he'd been asked on a date by an attractive girl. It would probably have given him an extra thrill. But Ethan's morals were different. Although he knew he should stay away from Jessica he didn't want her to become another casualty of his bad day.

He punched her phone number into his mobile.

"Hello?" she answered, breathlessly.

"Er, hello," he said. "I can't help but think I might have been a bit rude earlier."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Sorry, who is this?"

Ethan hit himself in the forehead. "Yes, sorry, it's Ethan. Doctor Hardy."

"Oh." Jessica said. "Hi."

"Hello."

Another pause.

"I'm glad you called."

Ethan leant back into his sofa. "It's been a strange day," he said. "Sorry for running off like that. Normally I would have at least offered you a head scan after choosing to give me your number."

She laughed. "What's made your day so strange then?"

"It's been a strange week, actually." Ethan sighed. "My brother's missing. He drives me crazy normally but now that he's not here I can't stop worrying." He paused. "I'm sorry, I really shouldn't be telling you all this."

"After all I told you the other day? Don't apologise."

"My head's a mess," Ethan admitted.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I don't think so."

"Well, you've got my number now," Jessica said. "So if you change your mind let me know. Or if you need a distraction then I'm here."

Ethan couldn't envisage anything distracting him right now but he found himself wanting to smile. "Thank you."


	9. Chapter 7

Thanks so much for the reviews. I thought it was a very unexciting part so I was really please to get such positive feedback.

I want to apologise this part is so short, I just felt there wasn't much more I could add to it. I promise there are longer parts coming up.

I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Chapter 7

In his shirt and blazer Ethan felt overdressed to be sitting in a room where everything was made of plastic. He perched on the edge of the chair with his hands in his lap. Many of the other visitors seemed to be forcefully casual, as if they could pretend everything was normal so long as they slumped on their seat or played with their hair.

He had never anticipated seeing Taylor again after he had got her arrested and his stomach churned at the thought. He knew she must be angry at the way he tricked her. The idea that she could have directed that anger into harming Cal refused to leave his mind.

Ethan tried to distract himself with thoughts of Jessica. Since their first phone call they had exchanged many pleasant (and only slightly awkward) texts. She was keen to meet up and he had been forced to explain that his priority at the moment was finding his brother. She was incredibly understanding and hers had been the last message on his phone before he was forced to hand it to the prison security guards.

When the door from the prison finally opened, Ethan was reluctant to search through the mass of women for Taylor. Instead, he stared at his fingers and took a few deep breaths. He only looked up when he felt her take the chair opposite him.

Their eyes locked. Taylor didn't look as bad as she had done the day he had saved her after she recklessly pulled the knife from her own leg, but she wasn't far from it. The prison clothes, florescent tabard and lack of make-up prevented her from looking like the glamourous women she presented herself as, but it was the look of exhaustion on her face which made the biggest difference.

"If you're here for your money then it's too late."

Ethan cleared his throat. "You know that's not why I'm here."

Taylor shrugged. "I was much more surprised to get your visiting request than I was Cal's."

"What's happened to him, Taylor?"

Taylor raised her eyebrows and shook her head. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play games with me, Taylor. Remember, I know exactly what you are, a lying, conniving, con-artist." Ethan paused while he forced himself to remain composed. "Tell me what mess you've got my brother into this time."

"Stole more money from you, has he?"

"I know you know something."

"He got what was coming to him. They all did. Yeah, I took their money, but consider it payback for all the hearts they broke."

Ethan glared at her. "I don't care _why_ you did it. I just need to know where he is now."

"What?" Taylor sighed as if she was bored.

"My brother came to visit you and he's not returned home since."

Taylor started to laugh. "And you think that's something to do with me?!"

"Naturally."

"Look, I wanted money. And I got it. I have no further interest in him."

Ethan scrutinised her face for signs of lying. It was, after all, something she excelled at. "What about revenge for getting caught?"

Her lips curved into a smile. "Then I'd have gone after you."

"Taylor," he said, "if you know anything, anything at all, please tell me." He took his glasses off and frowned. When he finally replaced them he looked her straight in the eyes. "Tell me where Cal is and I'll drop the charges."

"I have no idea."

They stared at each other for a few moments, neither willing to break the gaze first. In the end it was Ethan who looked away. His body felt heavy and was shaking with disappointment.

Taylor climbed to her feet and indicated to one of the guards that she wanted to leave. "I hope you find him," she said.

Ethan had no idea whether she was being sincere.

He sat for a while, looking at her empty space while he summoned enough energy to leave. He had just stood up when he felt eyes upon him. He turned to look and the face he saw made him feel sick. Months of teenage nightmares about her made him recognise her instantly even years later.

The room began to spin and he sat back down in the seat clumsily. Somehow, amid the rush of blood to his head, things began to piece themselves together. The one person in the world who wanted revenge on his family and he knew Cal had no idea what she looked like. Because during the trial that found her guilty of killing their father, Cal had been in Leeds, drinking himself into a stupor and burying his head under the sand.


	10. Interlude 2

First of all, thank you so much for the reviews on the last chapter. I had thought it was one of my weakest chapters, so I was overwhelmed by the kind responses.

I have had this chapter written for a long time, so I'm pleased to finally post it. I hope it's a good read and I would really appreciate it if you took the time to leave a review. Next chapter is still in progress, but it's looking like a long one!

* * *

Interlude

Cal sat with his legs to his chest, trying not to hyperventilate at the sounds he could hear from above him. As well as creaking floorboards and bangs from things being thrown around, he could hear male voices. Not long ago one of the voices said something about visiting him.

He had no idea how long he had been left for now but it felt like years. His arms, forced behind his back and trapping him to the pillar, had gone numb from disuse. The awkward position created waves of pain which spread across his shoulder and collarbone every time he fidgeted. He could still feel twinges of pain from the cuts to his face but the healing process had begun now and he was able to open his eye a little wider.

However, he was too aware that he was becoming increasingly dehydrated and malnourished. He felt imprisoned in a recurring nightmare, waking up time and time again in the basement. That he only ever remembered waking, not falling asleep, was enough confirmation that he must be dropping in and out of consciousness. And while conscious his body was constantly shivering. There was no heat in the basement and his bones ached from the cold. He had diagnosed himself with mild hypothermia but could do little to stall it as it was only his legs that were free to move to increase his temperature through activity.

With nothing to keep his mind distracted, his thoughts had turned to Ethan. He wondered if his brother still hated him for stealing the money, but was too polite to say so. It seemed possible. Cal knew that he hadn't always been a good brother. At times he had been a terrible brother. And even when he tried to do the right thing, there was always something or someone that made him screw up, yet again. He wondered if this was his punishment for all his mistakes, whether karma had finally caught up with him and left him tied up in a basement.

The banging from above increased in volume and Cal gulped as he heard footsteps on the stairs. The door swung open and he saw his assailants for the first time. Both men were muscular and walked with a menacing authority. The look of smug satisfaction on their faces as they saw him sent fear rocketing through Cal's body. For a moment he thought he was going to pass out from the pressure of his own heartbeat.

"Glad to see you're still with us," one of the men said.

"Who are you?" Cal demanded. His voice was faint from misuse and he wished his question hadn't sounded so feeble.

The same man crouched down in front of him and deftly slapped him, sending Cal's head swinging to one side. "You need to stay silent unless we give you permission to speak. Understood?"

Cal's cheek burned from the impact. He nodded.

"You don't need to know who we are," the second man interjected, "Not when you know our mum and our sister."

Cal didn't speak but he searched his brains for clues to who the men were talking about. He was furious with himself for displaying how scared he was through shaking, but at least the dehydration helped prevent tears.

"At a loss?" The man looked to his brother for confirmation. "Our sister's name was Abigail Morgan. Our mum is Paula Morgan."

Cal felt his stomach churn violently and he turned his head to the side just quick enough for the bile to hit the floor.

One of the men laughed. "Remember now?"

"Speak," the other man said. "Tell us who they are."

Cal sniffed and held his head up high to face the man. "Your mum killed my dad."

The man punched him and reopened the wound on his lip, sending a trail of blood trickling down Cal's chin. "Because your bastard of a dad killed our little sister."

"It was an accident!" Cal whimpered. "He didn't mean to hit her."

"He was drunk!" the man roared. "He was driving drunk and he hit and killed our little sister!"

The man turned away for a moment and a silent look of communication passed between the brothers.

Cal took the moments silence to plead his case. "That was my dad, not me."

The larger of the two men spun back round to face him. "What did we warn you about speaking when you're not spoken to?"

He grabbed Cal by the neck and pulled him upwards so that Cal was forced to scramble to his feet as he was brought to a standing position. Cal felt his head spin from the new height and leaned against the pillar he was tied to. He had barely regained his balance when a fist slammed into the side of his face. He gasped in pain.

"He not only took our sister from us, but our mum too. She's rotting in prison for avenging Abi's death."

"I'm sorry-" Cal began. But he saw a look pass between the two men and knew there was no point in continuing the sentence. He braced himself for the pain.

A fist drove into his stomach. A second blow stole his breath from him. A third, and he felt his ribs crack. His knees gave way but a strong hand at his chest forced him upright.

The next blow to his head turned everything black for a few seconds. Even as the room was still returning to focus he was punched again. The hits to his head and abdomen were simultaneous now but the pain was so severe that he barely felt the individual blows. Instead, his whole body felt on fire.

He knew he wouldn't last much longer and longed for the moment that his mind slipped into unconsciousness and he no longer had to bare the pain.

Fuck, he thought, they won't stop. Not even when I'm dead.

And with that thought, he welcomed oblivion.


	11. Chapter 8

As always, thank you for leaving such kind reviews. It means a lot to me.

This part has been a nightmare to write and I'm not exaggerating when I say it's taken me as long to complete this chapter as everything else added together. I'm still not completely happy with it, but after many rewrites and changes in direction, I just wanted to get the point where I'm able to move the story forward. This chapter is mostly backstory, so I hope it's not too boring or confusing but I felt it was a necessary part of the story I wanted to tell.

I did do some research for this chapter, but some of my questions were a little obscure even for Google! So I apologise if I have any details wrong or if the court scenes don't ring true.

The upside to this chapter is that it's my longest by a far!

Please let me know what you think. And bare with me, the next chapter is much more action filled, I promise.

* * *

Chapter 8

Ethan half walked-half jogged away from the prison, his mobile to his ear and checking the road behind every few seconds.

"PC Owen," he barked down the phone to the local police station. "I need to speak to him urgently."

"It's his day off," a cheerful voice at the other of the line told him. "Can I help instead?"

Ethan let at a grunt of frustration and ended the call. He didn't have time to explain everything again; if no-one would help him, he'd investigate himself.

It had been years since Ethan last saw Paula Morgan and yet the look of hatred on her face in prison had been identical to the one when they first clasped eyes all that time ago. Even discounting her glare, her presence alone was confirmation that she was somehow behind Cal's disappearance.

Ethan tried to remember all he could about Paula, to find some clues that may lead him to his brother.

His first contact with her had come in the form of her fists banging against their front door as she screamed the worst kind of obscenities. The three of them had been in their parents' bedroom. Their mother was on the double bed with her head in her arms and her hands covering her ears. Ethan and Cal crouched beneath the window, taking turns to covertly peer out and watch their neighbours gather on the pavement, unsure whose side they were on. The angle they were at didn't allow them to see the woman's face and, at sixteen, Ethan had had great difficulty picturing someone who was capable of emitting such noises.

She had arrived on their doorstep only a few hours after the media had finally been permitted to announce their father's name as the man who had hit and killed a young child in a traffic collision. The reporter, standing by the mass of flowers on the road where it happened, had grimly informed the nation that he had been three times over the legal drink-driving limit. A photograph of the little girl in her school uniform filled the screen for a few seconds. Her mother, the reporter said, was still too distressed to appear on camera.

Paula's screams had eventually turned to loud, heart wrenching sobs and Ethan caught his first glimpse of her as their elderly neighbour lead her back down their driveway. She batted the neighbour away and clasped her hand over her mouth, shaking violently as she supressed another scream. Ethan never knew if there was something that caused her to look up, but all of a sudden their eyes locked and she stared unblinkingly at him. He was frozen for a moment with the force of the gaze. Her eyes seemed to wish instant death upon him.

Cal pulled at him, wanting his turn to look out again, and the movement broke Ethan free from his trance. He shoved Cal back to the ground. His brother struggled until he registered Ethan's heavy breathing and then they lay side by side on the carpet. By the time Ethan braved another look out the window Paula was gone and their neighbours had finally reinvested themselves in their own lives.

In the days that followed Ethan had tried to block the incident from his mind. It was hard enough to comprehend that one of their father's refuted overindulgences had led to tragedy; even worse with the grief stricken victim on their doorstep. However, when their father turned up at the family home having been granted bail, it became impossible to ignore.

As soon as he saw them, he tried to pull both brothers into a hug. Ethan tolerated it for as long as he could, but Cal squirmed away and went to sit at the far side of the room, refusing to look at any of them. Their father wasn't perturbed and embraced his wife, planting a sloppy kiss on her forehead. She poised her arm and slapped him. The sound of her palm on his cheek was followed by silence.

Their father started to cry. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said. "I never meant to. She came out of nowhere."

Their mother backed into the corner of the room as if she was scared to be near him. "You were drunk," she said. "You were fucking drunk."

He looked at each member of the family pleadingly. "I'd had a hard day at work." He ran his hand over his balding head. "I only had a few; I thought it would be okay."

"It's never just a few, though, is it? And now- now you've killed a child!"

Their father sniffed as he tried to stem his tears. "I made a mistake."

Their mother shook her head. "You know what, get out! I don't want you staying here any longer.

"But my bail conditions…"

"I don't care," she said. "Out."

He took a few steps towards Cal and Ethan. "Boys, please, tell your mum how silly she's being."

Ethan could remember fighting his innate instinct to do as he was told. He inspected his father's once handsome face, which had been weathered prematurely through years of mild alcohol abuse. Although his father's cheeks were damp, the sadness in his eyes was more of self-pity than remorse. As Cal was still sulking, it had been left to Ethan to speak.

"Mum's right," he said. "You should go."

The silence that followed was almost worse than if he had shouted. But eventually, their dad bowed his head and left the room without another plea. The slam of the front door echoed around the house.

Ethan had expected his dad would be back the next morning to grovel some more. At most, he had thought, it would be a day or two before they saw him again. But instead, while they were eating their lunch the following day, they were disturbed by a pair of sombre looking police officers.

It transpired that their father had been stabbed three times with a kitchen knife and was unable to be revived despite the surgeons doing all they could. He had bled out on the operating table. The police informed them that they had arrested the culprit and she was currently being held in custody. Her identity, they said, may come as a bit of a shock.

The family received several sympathy cards from obligated relatives but it wasn't long before they found the first imposter. The lilies on the front of the card were coloured in with black marker pen and the printed message inside was scribbled out, replaced instead with a few words – _Good riddance, murderer._ After that, Cal took to ripping each new card in to shreds and burying them deep within the kitchen bin before their mother had a chance to see.

Cal had insisted they didn't watch the news either, presumably under the illusion that they could forget what happened if only there were no reminders. He refused to talk about it and would stomp to his room if either their father or Paula or little Abigail were mentioned. Ethan wished he could do the same as his brother, but knew that someone had to be there for their mother the times she wished to talk or sob or throw away her deceased husband's belongings.

Then the night before Paula Morgan's trial, their mother had insisted both Ethan and Cal accompanied her to the court and unearthed their smartest shirts and trousers so that she could iron them ready for them to wear. Neither had protested verbally, but attending their father's murder trial was the last place Ethan wanted to be and he could tell that his brother felt the same.

When he woke up in the morning and Cal was nowhere to be seen, Ethan had punched his pillow with all the force he could muster. Both he and his mother suspected Cal was hiding at a friend's as a silent protest but knew there was no time to wander from house to house while they worked out where he might be. He promised his mother he would be both sons for her that day and she forced a smile as she thanked him, but Ethan could tell she was still hurting from Cal's abandonment.

She kept their arms firmly linked from the time they left the taxi as well as when they were perched on the edge of the bench in the court room. She only let go to clasp her hands to her mouth as Paula Morgan was marched to the stand.

Paula scanned the crowd for them. Her eyes locked with Ethan's mother with a look of absolute hatred written across her face. Ethan was sure she blamed them for her daughter's death. When she turned her gaze on him, he felt his chest throb as if the anger in her eyes had somehow transferred her anguish onto him. He gasped, but it only lasted a second before the judge called for quiet and the ache in his chest was replaced by a feeling of intense nausea.

Paula confirmed that her plea was guilty but her solicitor stepped in to explain that it was with diminished responsibility. She was so consumed with grief for her daughter that she couldn't be held responsible for her own actions. The judge provided the court room with the background information about how Ethan's father, in a state of inebriation, had knocked down and killed Paula's daughter. Then he turned to Paula and asked her to explain what happened the night he died.

"He knocked on my door at about 8pm," Paula had told the room with a shaky voice. "My boys were staying with their dad and were due home, so I thought it must be them. When I realised, I tried to shut the door, but he pushed his way past me and into the hallway."

She looked to her solicitor and Ethan noticed him give her a slight nod of encouragement.

"I could smell alcohol on his breath," Paula said.

The judge sorted through his paperwork. "The post mortem confirmed that Mr Hardy had consumed approximately fifteen units of alcohol." He turned to face Paula. "Ms Morgan, given that Mr Hardy's prior intoxication resulted in your daughter's death, did it make you angry that he'd continued to drink following his release from custody?"

Paula took a few moments to respond and before she did her eyes flickered once more to Ethan and his mother. "It scared me," she said. "In that state, I didn't know what he would be capable of."

"Did he threaten you?"

"He was crying," Paula said. "He knew he was going to jail. He said I'd ruined his life."

"Did he threaten you, Ms Morgan?"

Paula shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "He begged me to forgive him." She wiped a hand over her eye, smudging dark mascara across her cheek.

"And what did you reply?"

"I said no!" she replied, her mouth remaining open slightly after the judge's question. "I can never forgive him for taking my Abi away from me."

The judge didn't react as Paula wiped away another tear. "How did Mr Hardy react when you told him that?"

Paula's bottom lip trembled and she stared blankly at the judge.

He waited a few seconds longer then sighed. "Ms Morgan, please answer the question. How did Mr Hardy react?"

"He attacked me," she said. Her voice caught slightly as she spoke, as if she was surprised by the words that came from her mouth. "He put his hands around my neck and pushed me against the wall."

Ethan shook his head. His father, although often drunk, had never been violent. "No, no, that's not right," he muttered. His mother squeezed his hand and gave him a stern look telling him to be quiet. He could see the tears in her eyes.

"Ms Morgan," the judge continued. "You were examined after Mr Hardy's death and there were no injuries anywhere on your body, including your neck."

"He let me go," she said quickly. "But then he punched the wall. He put a hole in it; there's proof of that!"

The judge located a photo of a cream wall with a fist sized hole and flaking plaster, and showed it to the jury. "This corresponds with grazes on Mr Hardy's knuckles." He turned back to Paula. "He punching the wall isn't in dispute, Ms Morgan. We are trying to establish the reasons behind you stabbing him."

Paula nodded frantically. "I know," she said. "But that's how angry he was. I was scared he was going to hurt me next." She closed her eyes as if replaying the scene. "He kept talking about Abi," she continued. "He was talking about her like he knew her. And I just kept thinking that she'll never learn to roller skate or to plait her hair or, or, have her first kiss, first heartbreak, get a job or go on a fancy holiday." Paula fervently wiped a tear from her cheek. "I'll never see her again, never hear her sing or the sound of her laugh. I just kept thinking how much I miss her."

The courtroom was silent. Ethan could understand what Paula was saying. Although the last few years with his father had been turbulent, especially in regards to his father's drinking, it was almost impossible to believe he'd never see him again.

Ethan jumped when the silence was broke.

"What happened next?" the judge enquired.

Paula had given up on trying to stem the flow of tears. "He wouldn't stop talking," she said. "Hearing him say her name – it was unbearable." She looked directly at the judge. "All I could think was how to get him to stop. I thought, maybe, if I could get him to keep quiet then my pain would also end. And next thing I knew, there was a knife in his chest and my hands were holding it."

The judge bowed his head. "Thank you for your explanation, Ms Morgan."

It seemed, to Ethan, to take forever for the jury to make their decision. His mother barely spoke during the time they were deliberating and Ethan ran soon ran out of words of comfort. He felt sure that Cal would have done a better job than him and cursed his brother for absconding when they needed him the most.

When it was finally time for the verdict to be announced, Paula looked as if she could barely stand. Ethan watched her, wondering if she would stay upright long enough and trying to ignore how his feeling of sickness had returned with a vengeance. The sound of the courtroom reverberated in his ears and all voices seemed to merge together. He shook his head and the noise cleared just in time for him to hear one word ring across the room.

"Guilty."

Ethan's gaze shot straight to Paula. Her hand clutched at her chest as if she was physically pained by the verdict.

"The plea of diminished responsibility is not agreed by this court. Ms Morgan has been found fully culpable for the charge of murder."

With that, Paula let out a cry of sorrow. As she was led away, she turned back to the jury. "Please. Please! My boys, who will look after them?"

The prison guards did not pause to wait for an answer.

Back in the present, Ethan blinked rapidly, trying to shake himself from his vivid memories. Paula's parting words echoed in his head. She had two sons; older brothers to little Abigail. Although Paula was behind bars and unable to reach Cal herself, Ethan became more and more certain that her two sons were behind it. All he needed now was to discover their whereabouts.

There was only one place he could think of that may allow him access to members of the public's addresses. So Ethan skidded to a halt and began to retrace his steps.

He had to get the hospital fast.


	12. Chapter 9

Thank you for the reviews:)

Now time for a more exciting part! Let me know what you think

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Chapter 9

Ethan could hear Mrs Beauchamp's voice as soon as he entered the door to the ED. It sounded as if she was admonishing someone and, in that kind of mood, she was the last person he wanted to bump into. In fact, he hoped to avoid as many of his colleagues as possible; too many difficult questions could get him into serious trouble.

He snuck into the staff room and retrieved his laptop from his locker. His laptop nearly lived at work these days as the only chance he got to study was during his lunch break, on the rare occasions it wasn't cut short. Although he was still getting used to the struggle of balancing an incredible amount of overtime with revising for the upcoming exams, he was thankful that it allowed him to do this piece of research.

Ethan opened the search engine and typed 'Paula Morgan' into the text box. He scrolled down the screen until he saw a link to a newspaper article which looked like it may contain some information. He jumped as his own father's face flashed up as an inset on the page. Ignoring the picture, he carried on reading, scanning the article for hints of Paula's family. There was none. He grunted. He was just about to try another page when his eye was drawn to another photograph, this time showing Paula and three children. Below it, the caption read 'Paula with Abigail and her two sons, Lee and Steven.'

Ethan leant back on his chair, relieved he had found their names. He only permitted himself to sit still for two more seconds, before shoving his laptop away and rushing to the central station in the ED. He kept his head down as he logged on to the computer, in an illusion it would disguise him. In the end it was only Lofty who had time to saunter over to him and ask him what he was doing at work when he was supposedly on leave.

Ethan stammered his rehearsed response about looking up some information for a case study. Lofty squinted at him but was soon called away, much to Ethan's relief. The database showed several results for both Lee Morgan and Steven Morgan, but he narrowed it down by searching for dates of birth in the 1980s. He was sure the brothers were of similar age to him and Cal. Eventually, he found both a Lee and a Steven registered to the same address.

He scribbled the address on a scrap piece of paper. At best, his writing matched the usual doctor's stereotype, but today it was much messier than normal thanks to his trembling hands. He corrected an ambiguous looking number and folded the paper in half.

As he left the hospital, he wasn't sure if he imagined the sound of Mrs Beauchamp calling his name.

Ethan knew which vague direction the house was in. It was on the outskirts of the Farmead Estate, but typically housed slightly more affluent residents who could meet the costs of house rather than a rundown flat. Ethan himself had viewed a property there when searching for his current apartment, but had realised the affordable price was a result of being on the boarder of the roughest area in Holby.

The area was just the other side of the prison and certainly walkable on a good day. However, Ethan felt time constraints pressing hard on his shoulders and so hailed a taxi from outside the hospital.

He used the journey to try to concoct a plan but he could barely concentrate for the repetition of his brother's name echoing in his head. As well as his shaking hands, his stomach was now churning and he could feel the onset of a headache. He rubbed his forehead. He had spent his life organised and prepared and yet, this time, he had no idea what was ahead of him.

Ethan fumbled as he fished in his satchel for some money for the taxi driver. He only just about had enough and ended up finishing the payment with small change. The driver tutted at him, but it barely registered.

In front of him was the house. He had memorised the number but pulled out the scrap of paper anyway to double check. The building looked surprisingly normal; brick built, two storeys high and a tiny front garden decked with overgrown grass. Ethan peered through the window as inconspicuously as he could. He could feel his pulse in his throat. He stared into the front room for as long as he dared. His breathing relaxed again as he confirmed the room was empty. The curtains and the furniture all suggested it hadn't been decorated for a long time and yet items were strewn so carelessly across the table that it must have been in recent use. Ethan wondered if this was Paula's house, where her two sons grew up, left exactly the same as when she lived there. The thought suddenly made him feel sick.

The front door had no doorbell, only a rusty old knocker beneath a frosted window. Before he had chance to change his mind, Ethan knocked on the door as loudly as he could. He let thirty seconds pass, then one minute, then two. Then he knocked again. There was still no answer.

Ethan removed his glasses and rubbed a hand across his eyes. He frowned as he pondered his next move. A possibility danced across his mind which he tried to ignore, but in the end, it was the only way forward. He checked over his shoulder and waited for a lady and her child to walk out of view. He shrugged his blazer from his shoulders and wrapped the material firmly around his wrist. Then he punched the small window on the door.

Nothing happened except a throbbing pain surging through his hand. He stretched his fingers and winced, but then curled his fingers back into a fist and tried again. This time the window splintered. The noise it made was louder than Ethan had expected and he frantically checked behind him to make sure no neighbours were about to interfere. His hand hurt even more now, but he knew from the protection of his blazer he would have no nasty incisions to contend with as well.

He laid his blazer across the remaining shards of glass on the base of the window and stretched his arm through into the open space beyond. It took him a few attempts to locate the handle and he had to stand on his tiptoes to push it down low enough to open the door. He was almost surprised when the door finally swung open and stumbled slightly as he retrieved his hand, now unable to use the door as a leaning tool.

Ethan was sure that the neither Morgan brother was in the house, for they would have been able to hear him breaking in. However, he still stood stock still for a moment in the hallway, carefully listening for any sounds around him.

He headed upstairs first, taking the stairs two at a time. The landing had four doors. It was the final room that shocked him the most. The furnishings were archaic but the pink designs and fluffy cushions were unmistakeably that of a young girl. Ethan picked up a framed photograph from the top of the chest of drawers. He recognised little Abigail at the front of the picture, with Paula one side of her and her two brothers the other. He placed the picture back where he had got it front and headed back downstairs.

The rooms downstairs were empty and clueless too and Ethan could barely contain his shivers as he began to believe he had made a terrible mistake. He could cope with the guilt from breaking and entering into a house if he had to, but he had been so convinced he would find his brother here too. The thought that he was no closer to finding Cal lay heavy in Ethan's stomach.

He was preparing himself to leave when he noticed the cupboard under the stairs was bolted from the outside. He slid the bolt, frowning at why anyone would feel the need to keep their vacuum cleaners and ironing boards locked away. But instead he saw a dark staircase leading to a second door. His legs felt like they wouldn't support him for long and he trailed a hand on each wall as he descended the stairs.

The door at the bottom swung open with surprising ease.

Across the room was a body, tied to a pillar, the rope the only thing keeping him in anywhere near a sitting position. The man was bloodied and unconscious, with dark bruises adorning his cheeks and dark red stains tainting his pale t-shirt.

Ethan took a few steps closer. His movements felt numb, overwhelmed by the throb of his own pulse coursing through his veins. He couldn't be sure, though, not until he was alongside the man.

Among the dried blood and swollen features, Ethan could barely recognise his own brother.

Ethan fell to his knees, ignoring the crunch as they hit the cold stone floor. He held out a shaking hand and placed two fingers on his brother's neck. Cal's skin was cold.

Ethan waited, with dread, to see if he could find a pulse.


	13. Chapter 10

Thank you for the reviews and additional faves/follows I received for the last chapter.

Finally the boys are reunited! When I first got the idea for this story, I didn't realise how much I would miss writing them together, so I really enjoyed writing this chapter.

As always, I would be incredibly grateful if you have the time to leave me a review.

Enjoy

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Chapter 10

Ethan's hand was shaking so much that it took him a few seconds before he could focus on what he was feeling beneath his fingers. Although faint and slightly tachycardic, there was definitely a pulse. His brother was still alive.

Ethan pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled 999 with one hand, his other still resting against his brother's neck. He barely registered the words that flooded from his mouth until it got the end of the conversation and the operator assured him that help was on its way. With that task complete, Ethan let him arms fall to his side. His limbs didn't seem to work like normal. He blinked a few times and wished that when he opened his eyes, the bruises and cuts that marred his brother's face would have disappeared.

Instead, his brother started to move.

"Cal," Ethan said. "Caleb. Open your eyes."

Cal's eyes slowly flickered open. He looked blankly at his brother for a moment, his lips slightly parted and his forehead creased.

"Ethan," he rasped.

"Yeah," Ethan said. He placed a hand on his brother's cheek. "It's me."

Cal tried to swallow and it was clear that even such a small movement caused him a lot of pain. "You've got to go," he said. "Not safe."

"Police are on their way." Ethan tried to smile reassuringly but his mouth felt stiff. "And an ambulance."

Cal groaned. "Go."

"Not without you! Not without you, okay."

Cal gave the tiniest of nods and then leant his head back against the pillar. "Hurts."

Ethan bowed his head in understanding. "I know." He paused. "I'm afraid there's not much I can do about that at the moment, but I'm going to try to untie you, okay?"

Ethan shuffled to the back of the pillar and squinted at the rope around his brother's wrists. He could see red burns tainting the flesh it had rubbed. Now he was away from Cal's eye line, he finally succumbed to the tears that had been stinging his eyes since he entered the room. He wiped them away with the back of his hand and sniffed, hoping Cal hadn't heard.

The knots in the rope were tied tightly, presumably having been pulled firmer every time Cal had fought against them. Ethan picked at them and grunted. However hard he tugged, he was unable to loosen them even a little bit. He crawled back to his brother's side, relieved to see that Cal's eyes were still open and watching him.

"I'm sorry," Ethan said, "I can't undo it. We'll have to wait for the ambulance to get here." He paused. "In the meantime I want to try and assess you. I'm sure you don't feel much like talking, but just try and answer as best as you can, okay?"

Cal blinked. "Okay."

"How many times have you been knocked unconscious?"

"Twice," Cal replied, croakily.

"Any idea how long for?"

"Dunno. Been in and out quite a bit, I think." His pronunciation was less distinct than usual, as if his tongue had grown too thick for his mouth.

"Okay." Ethan leant over his brother and used his index finger to lift Cal's eyelid so that he could see his pupil better. The swollen eye hindered him slightly, but he soon got the eye wide enough. He loaded the torch on his phone and shone it in Cal's eye. His pupil dilated. Ethan repeated the procedure on Cal's right eye. His smile was easier this time. "Both equal and reactive," he confirmed to his brother. "Do you feel sick at all?"

"Yes."

"Dizzy?"

"Yeah."

"Right." Ethan frowned. "I'll just-"

"Just dehydration," Cal interrupted, wearily. "S'fine."

"It's not fine, Caleb." Ethan traced his hands over the back of his brother's head, checking for any lumps or swellings. He found a slight bump which looked like it may have been caused by being smacked against the pillar. He pressed down on it slightly. "Does that hurt?"

"Yes!" Cal pulled his head away from Ethan's fingers but the movement caused him to cry out in pain.

"You need to stay still."

"Stop prodding me then," Cal replied, annoyed.

Ethan's chest suddenly felt lighter. Cal's irritation was so familiar that it was just the proof he needed that his brother was still inside the battered man he was tending to. "I'm sorry," he said. "But you know I need to."

Ethan resumed his examination, working Cal's top up his body as gently as he could, taking care not to pull it away too roughly from the blooded areas it was stuck to. Although he couldn't remove the t-shirt completely, he lifted it as high as he could, allowing for the clearest view of the injuries.

Cal's chest and abdomen were a multitude of blues and purples. The only interruptions to the bruises were the bloody patches from where punches had been so violent they had broken the skin. Ethan froze at the sight. He could see that Cal's was also staring at his own bruised torso.

After a few seconds Cal looked up and their eyes locked. "Is it bad?"

Ethan knew that his brother, as a doctor, knew the potential complications from chest traumas as well as he did. But he also understood Cal well enough to know that the question was a plea for reassurance. "You're going to be fine," he said, the customary phrase tumbling from his lips. "I'm just going to check you over some more."

He placed his hands on Cal's side, just beneath his armpits and pressed gently. He saw Cal grit his teeth but he bravely remained silent. Ethan gradually worked his way down his brother's body, testing his chest for where the most serious injuries were. As he was half way down his ribs and alongside a large bruise, Cal let out a moan of pain.

"Sorry, sorry," Ethan said. His throat burned from trying not to reveal to his brother how much he wanted to cry. He continued with the examination but Cal was fully whimpering now, nothing left within him to fight the pain.

"Ethan, please stop," Cal begged, in a whisper.

"Okay, we'll have a break. I will have to carry on in a minute though."

Cal's eyes were damp. He squeezed them shut but only one tear fell.

Ethan wiped his brother's cheek, knowing that dehydration was the only thing preventing a whole cascade of tears. His hand came away bloody and he quickly wiped it on his trousers, glad that Cal's eyes were still shut so that he could not see. "You'll be out of here soon, I promise."

While Cal was still recovering from the added pain, Ethan leant closer and turned his ear to Cal's chest. It was hard to hear without a stethoscope but he was sure that his brother's breaths were shallower that their natural rhythm. The rise and fall of Cal's chest seemed a little more frequent than it should be.

"Your breathing's becoming a bit laboured," Ethan said. "Just try and take a long, deep breath for me."

He reopened his eyes and Ethan waited patiently for him to focus before he repeated his instruction.

"Caleb, take a deep breath."

Cal did as he was told but winced.

"Does your chest feel tight?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." Ethan sighed. "Right, I know it hurts, but I'm going to have to continue to examine you and see what's going on." Ethan placed his hands back on Cal's chest and traced them across each rib, feeling sick every time he pressed down and heard his brother groan. "I think you have quite a few broken ribs," he told his brother, "so there could be some internal bleeding." Even beneath the injuries he could see that Cal's face was ghostly white and clammy. "Come on, what's taking the ambulance so long!"

Cal's eyes flickered shut.

"No, no," Ethan said. "You need to stay awake."

"Tired," Cal murmured. His eyes remained closed.

Ethan held two fingers again Cal's neck and retook his pulse. It was still slightly fast, but not dangerously so.

"Open your eyes, Cal. Look at me." Ethan insisted.

Cal slowly forced his eyes open but his gaze did not meet Ethan's. Instead, he looked over his brother's shoulder with a look of absolute terror on his face. The pace of his breathing immediately quickened and it fell in short, noisy bursts.

Suddenly Ethan felt light headed. He spun around to see what had disturbed his brother. Even though his gut instinct told him what he was about to see, he still jumped at the sight of two men standing side by side at the bottom of the stairs.

One man laughed. "How nice of you to join us."


	14. Chapter 11

As always thank you so much to those who left a review - it really does mean so much to hear what you think.

I can't believe originally I'd planned for this chapter and the last to just be one, as there was just so much details I wanted to include. Apologies if any of the medical stuff is wrong, I've made it as accurate as I can.

Hope you enjoy

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Chapter 11

Before Ethan even had a chance to move, the room was filled with police. Both assailants were tackled to the floor and roughly handcuffed. As an officer recited their arrest warrant, Dixie and Iain squeezed past the commotion and ran to Cal's side.

His brother was still hyperventilating and Ethan could do nothing but watch as Dixie placed an oxygen mask over his mouth and tried to talk him through getting his breathing back to normal.

Iain ran a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell, Ethan, what's happened here?"

Ethan's head was spinning as the day's events replayed themselves, every instance blurring together in his mind. He shook his head, unable to form a coherent sentence to explain how Cal had got in this position. "He needs help," he said instead; the only thing that remained clear.

"That's what we're here for," Iain replied, with a grim smile. He pulled some scissors from his medical kit and began to snip at the rope that was binding Cal to the pillar. The rope was thick and not what the scissors were designed to cut, but Iain persisted.

By the time Cal's arms were finally free his breathing was much calmer, but the oxygen mask remained protectively over his mouth. The paramedics worked together to lower Cal onto his back on the floor but despite their gentleness, he still groaned loudly. His eyes were tightly shut and his whole body was trembling.

"Okay, Cal," Dixie said. "I'm just going to cut this top from you and have a look what's going on. Stay nice and calm for me, okay, sweetheart."

As Dixie started to carry out the same checks he had done earlier, Ethan's mind suddenly kicked into action. "I've done that already," he said. "I- I think broken ribs, internal bleeding. There's a bump to the back of the head as well as the visible lacerations. Possible mild concussion. Dehydration. Erm-"

"Okay Ethan, thank you," Dixie calmly interrupted. "You've done a really good job. He's going to be fine."

She laid one of Cal's arms flat and tapped at his wrist to find a vein. Her first attempt with the needle didn't work and she tutted, muttering something about dehydration. However, her years of experience presented themselves on her second try, and she slid the needle smoothly into a vein. She attached a saline drip to the other end gently squeezed the bag, getting some much needed fluids into Cal's body.

Ethan exhaled. He drew his legs to his chest. Now he wasn't of any use, he began to realise how cold and uncomfortable the floor was. He had no idea how Cal had managed to withstand sitting on it for so long. Fear crept into his throat again, as he remembered how long his brother had been imprisoned for.

It was painful to look at Cal. The cuts and bruises across his body were among the worst Ethan had seen from a beating throughout all his time working as a doctor. And it was terrifying how different his brother looked from the swelling and contusions on his face. Ethan removed his glasses but it didn't help; although he could see Cal less clearly, he still knew it was his big brother lying there, suffering and only barely conscious.

Ethan managed to pull his gaze from Cal in time to see police officers leading the second and final brother from the room. The man was struggling. His hands were cuffed but he was using his shoulders to try to escape from the firm grip of the policemen, throwing his body from side to side. The officers seemed unperturbed and lead him from the room with an air of confidence. Just before they shoved him through the exit, the brother spun around and his glare met Ethan's. Neither brother looked like their mother; while Paula was petite, they were both broad and muscular. However, the hatred on his face was identical to hers.

He quickly looked away and back to the scene unfolding in front of him. Cal was close to finally regaining his previous level of consciousness, but only to bat weakly at the collar Dixie was attempting to fit around neck.

"No, sweetheart," she said. "You need that on."

"Don't want it," he replied groggily, his voice faint through the oxygen mask. "Please. Neck's fine."

Dixie looked to Iain for confirmation. He shrugged, so she turned to Ethan. "What do you reckon?"

"He needs it on." He moved closer to Cal. "It's just until we get to the hospital, okay, you'll be fine."

Cal squeezed his eyes shut again and murmured something indistinct.

Ethan leaned over his brother and lifted the oxygen mask the tiniest bit away from his mouth. "Say that again, Caleb, I couldn't hear."

"S'like being trapped," he said.

Ethan grabbed his brother's hand. They seldom had physical contact with each other, and even when they did, it was so rare that the touch had any meaning. So Ethan was unsure how, with one squeeze of his brother's hand, he could convey everything he wished to say; that he was there for him, that everything would be okay. Cal's cold fingers curled around his and his breathing seemed to calm.

"Okay," he murmured. "Just stay with me."

"Of course," Ethan replied. He nodded his consent to Dixie.

The paramedics worked to secure Cal's neck and strap him safely to the spinal board.

Ethan kept his hand in his brother's for as long as he could but was forced to let go so he could be carried up the narrow stairway. It was a slow process and Ethan trailed at the back, torn between wanting to remind his colleagues to keep their footing secure and to beg them to hurry up. He had never suffered from claustrophobia, but stuck in the staircase, unable to see ahead of him and with only the torturous basement behind, his throat began to feel tight. He longed for fresh air.

When they eventually got outside, Ethan lingered in the garden. Away from Dixie's perceptive eyes, he took a few deep breaths. Neighbours were starting to gather around the property now, wondering the cause of the commotion. The lady next door was demanding her children stayed inside, but a young boy kept peeping out, curiosity beating his mother's warnings. It reminded Ethan of the day many years ago, when he and Cal spied on Paula on their doorstep.

Ethan climbed in the ambulance and sat by Dixie on the bench. He clasped his brother's hand again and saw Cal's gaze swivel to his. He knew his brother was close to panicking and he understood why. During the small frames of consciousness Ethan remembered after the crash, he had hated having his movements restricted by the collar and board. For Cal, it must be worse, the constraints a reminder of being tied up, scared and alone.

He felt every painful bump of the journey with his brother. Although the ambulance was speeding through the streets of Holby, sirens blaring, every second felt prolonged. Dixie's movements as she administered another dose of morphine seemed to be in slow motion. Ethan wondered if they would ever reach the sanctuary of the hospital. But eventually, the ambulance stopped and the back doors were flung open. Movement encased him and suddenly everything was on fast-forward as staff and colleagues swarmed around the ambulance, grabbing at equipment and sliding Cal's trolley out towards safety.

Ethan heard his name and looked blankly into Robyn's face.

"Come on," she said. "Cal needs you."

The simple statement was enough to wake Ethan from his daze. He shook himself. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I'm coming." He stumbled slightly as he jumped down from the ambulance, but it didn't take him long to catch up with the trolley as it sped towards Resus.

Cal's been imprisoned for the last eight days," Dixie explained to the team, "During that time he has had been assaulted twice but the majority of the injuries come from the most recent beating, which we believe occurred yesterday. He was KO'd during both incidents and has drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the imprisonment. He's been without food or water and is presenting as severely dehydrated." She paused long enough to help the team transfer Cal from the trolley onto a bed. "He has a GCS of twelve. Pulse is one-fifty, BP ninety systolic. He's had five of morphine and nearly two litres of saline. The head injuries appear superficial on first inspection but we're concerned about the chest trauma, particularly as he's tachycardic and has been for some time."

"Okay, thanks Dixie," Connie said. She pushed the sleeves of her blouse up to her elbows and approached the bed. "Hi, Cal," she said, unusually gently, "It's Mrs Beauchamp. You're going to be fine."

"Where's Ethan?" he murmured through the oxygen mask.

Connie turned and beckoned him over.

Ethan made him way numbly to stand by his brother's side. Cal was surrounded by so much medical equipment that he seemed much smaller than normal and the fear on his face made him look younger. "Can we take the collar off soon?" Ethan asked. "He's scared with it on. I told him it would only be until we got here."

Connie gave him a scolding look. "My patient, Doctor Hardy and you know, as a relative, that you can't have anything to do with his treatment."

"I'm sorry, I just-"

"Okay. But understand if there are any further interruptions, you will have to step outside."

Ethan bowed his head in understanding, and put a comforting hand on his brother's bare shoulder.

Connie's firm hands worked their way down Cal's chest. He winced at the first touch and let out another pained cry as she pressed against the sorest area. She replaced her fingers with her stethoscope and listened intently to the beat of his heart. "Still tachycardic." She checked the monitor "His pulse has increased to one hundred and sixty. Nurse Miller, book a CT now, I want both his chest and head scanned urgently."

The heart monitor attached to Cal started beeping.

Ethan spun around to read it. "Pulse is through the roof," he said.

"Right, scrap the CT," Connie said. "There's no time. I need an ultrasound over here. Now!"

Ethan looked to his brother. His breaths were rapid and shallow and a horrible rasping noise was coming from his throat. "He can't breathe," he said. "Do something!"

"You need to step back," Connie ordered as she placed the ultrasound scanner on Cal's chest.

Ethan stayed where he was, all eyes focused on his brother as he struggled to catch his breath.

"He's got a haemothorax," Connie said. "We need to insert a chest drain. Ethan, move."

"I- I want to help," Ethan said. "He needs, erm-"

Connie swung to face him, eyes blaring. "He needs my sole attention," she said. "You're not helping. Get out."

"Please, I-"

"Out!" Connie demanded. She turned her back on him and picked up the large needle that needed inserting into Cal's chest to drain the collection of blood.

Ethan felt his peripheral vision blur at the sight and was grateful for the strong arms that gripped his shoulders and led him out of Resus. He had no idea when Charlie got into the room, but was grateful for the man's presence.

"He'll be okay," the older man said, calm as always. "It's a simple procedure, you know that."

"I- I can't lose him, Charlie, I-"

"And you're not going to. Connie knows what she's doing."

"But, I- What if- He-" Ethan broke off, unable to assemble a full sentence. He turned back towards Resus and put a hand on the door, ready to push it open and re-enter the room.

Charlie placed a warning hand on his arm. It wouldn't have done much if Ethan had chosen to fight it, but the gesture provided enough comfort to stall his movements.

"I know it's scary to watch a loved one in trouble," Charlie said. "I know."

"No-one would help," Ethan said. He felt his eyes pricking with emotion. "I should have found him sooner."

Ethan's vision was obscured as tears flooded his eyes. He stared through the clear doors to Resus, blinking furiously, to try to see what was going on. He couldn't see his brother for the amount of staff surrounding his bed, trying their best to stabilise his condition.


	15. Chapter 12

I'm so appreciative of the reviews I got for that last chapter, it was the most I've had for a single chapter of this and I loved reading them all.

I'm sorry it has taken me so long to get this chapter up. I've been busy recently, but on top of that I had so many ideas for this chapter but they were all just little snippets, images or odd sentences of conversation. I was trying to include as many of them as I could, but the effect was that it was really disjointed and I ended up having to discard some ideas that I had liked and rewrite a lot of what I had already written.

I'm anticipating another two chapters after this (one of which being the prologue) but as the next chapter currently has a grand total of 103 words, it is all subject to change.

I have a few concerns about this chapter, but I won't delve into them now and spoil the plot. I hope you manage to enjoy it anyway and please leave a review if you can. As always, thanks for reading.

* * *

Chapter 12

Finally, Connie headed towards where they stood. As she walked, she pulled off her plastic gloves and her apron, scrunched them up and through them mercilessly in the nearest bin. Her expression was grim. She exhaled and her eyes flickered to Charlie before addressing Ethan.

"He's stable and conscious."

Ethan felt his knees buckle and leant heavily against the wall.

"Okay?" Connie asked.

He Ethan nodded fervently. "Cal?"

"The chest drain was successful, he's breathing easily and his pulse is almost back to normal. He's badly beaten with several broken ribs, a suspected fractured nose and cheekbone, not to mention the severe dehydration, but he's going to be fine." She pulled her hair free from the tie and smiled. "He's asking for you."

Ethan stumbled into Resus, his body feeling like it had nothing left inside to keep him going. He was grateful for the chair that Robyn placed by Cal's bedside and slumped onto it. Cal's chest was still bare and covered in bruises, with the new additions of the uncomfortable tube that had been inserted between his ribs and the needle in his wrist that hooked him up to the drip. His face was looking slightly better now that some of the dried blood had been wiped away but his eyes were barely open. The oxygen mask remained around his neck, but for now he wasn't in need of it.

"Hey," his brother whispered. Although his voice was quiet, he sounded more coherent than previously.

Ethan took his hand, void of words.

"So," Cal continued, sleepily. "You getting kicked out of Resus. Must be a first!"

Ethan's chest ached at the comment. He was surprised at the way his lips automatically functioned a smile. A few minutes ago he would have never thought that possible. "You must be feeling better," he finally managed, "now that you're mocking me again."

"Morphine is doing the trick."

Ethan nodded and looked down at their clasped hands. He hadn't had chance to wash his yet, so they were still speckled with his brother's blood. "You scared me, Caleb," he said, his voice as low as Cal's. "I thought- I thought-"

"Don't," Cal replied. "Ethan, I-" He paused as he fought to keep his eyes open. "Ethan, you know I'm bad at stuff like this, but finding me, getting me out of there – you'll never know how much that means."

Ethan was quiet as he watched his brother drift off to sleep. He looked at their hands again, at the deep red welts of rope burn around Cal's wrist. That would scar, he was sure of it. Cal had been vain since discovering hair gel as a teenager, so Ethan knew he would hate the ugly marks. His own concerns for his brother, however, were to do with a less physical kind of scar.

Ethan followed as his sleeping brother was wheeled upstairs to Keller. His colleagues had suggested he took some time to himself, to have a cup of tea, coffee, to sleep, eat, shower – everyone had a different recommendation. But it was unconceivable to him that he could do anything except stay with his brother.

Cal woke briefly as the nurses helped him in a gown and fitted a nasal cannula. He looked towards Ethan with his brows creased, but the disorientation only lasted a few seconds before his eyes reclosed.

It was strange watching his brother sleep. Even though all Ethan could do was watch the rise and fall of his brother's chest, it felt intrusive, as if he was privy to a private moment. The room was silent except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor and it wasn't long before Ethan's own eyes began to flicker. He strained to stay awake but the next thing he knew he was lurching back to consciousness at the sound of a yell from his brother's bed. He nearly fell off his chair as he rushed to Cal's side.

"Okay?"

"Yeah," Cal said, gruffly. "Sorry."

Ethan titled his head to one side. Cal never apologised for anything. "Bad dream?"

"Forgot where I was, that's all," Cal said, without meeting his eyes. He pushed down on the mattress in an attempt to manoeuvre himself into a sitting position and let out another cry.

"Stay still," Ethan said. "I can adjust the bed if you really want, but it is the middle of the night."

"Had enough sleep," Cal replied, but he stopped moving and lay back against the pillows. "Can I use your phone?"

Ethan's fingers wrapped around the metal in his pocket but he hesitated before handing it over. "Why?"

"Ethan, please."

Ethan huffed as he considered but another glance at Cal's weakened body made any other answer disappear from the tip of his tongue. He unlocked the phone, ignoring the influx of concerned texts, and passed it to his brother. Immediately after the phone left his hand he realised what Cal was about to do. "Actually," he said, "I don't think-"

Cal looked at him out the corner of his eye but didn't speak. He niftily opened the camera and switched the view so that it was showing him a portrait of his bruised and misshapen face.

Ethan witnessed the moment his brother recoiled at the sight of his own appearance, parting his lips and burying the back of his head as deep as he could within the cushions. Cal's eyes were fixated on the phone screen. He was squinting slightly, an expression Ethan recognised from when his brother watched a horror film but tried to act macho and unafraid.

"It'll heal," Ethan said.

Cal squared his jaw. Although his eyes were damp he was unafraid to meet Ethan's gaze. "You shouldn't have let me see."

"I'm sorry, I-"

Cal held out the phone. "Take it."

"Cal, listen."

"I'm tired," Cal said. He shuffled lower down on the bed and pulled the thin duvet up to his neck. "Just let me sleep."

Ethan sighed. He resumed his position on the bedside chair and waited as Cal's sulk turned into a genuine, deep slumber.

By the time it had reached half past four in the morning, Ethan had given up on getting any rest himself. His neck was stiff from spending so long without support and he rolled his shoulders to try and ease the muscles. Now he knew that Cal's medical condition was stable, his concerns turned to his brother's state of mind.

He had no idea whether Cal would wake feeling grateful or angry as he had already exhibited both moods within a relatively short time frame. All Ethan knew was that he wanted to ensure he was present for when Cal woke in the morning. Through the fog of tiredness, he made a decision and left the room as quietly as he could.

His flat, though still unoccupied, seemed less of a lonely place now that he knew his brother would be returning. Ethan smiled at that thought as he entered Cal's room. He hunted through the heaps of clothes for pyjama bottoms, t-shirts and underwear and folded them carefully before packing them into Cal's gym bag. From the bathroom, he collected a toothbrush and toothpaste as well as Cal's expensive shower gel, knowing that he wouldn't be keen on what the hospital provided. He found the laptop easily but it took a little longer to unearth the power cable and he added them to the bag as well, debating whether it was worth taking a book for his brother, even though it would remain largely unread.

He had automatically tidied Cal's room as he searched and the wash basket was close to overflowing. He picked up the last remaining items of clothing that were on the floor and stripped the bed as well. The washing machine was only just big enough for all the items. Ethan slumped on the sofa as he waited for the laundry to finish and idly scrolled through his texts. Many were from his colleagues, sending their love or asking for an update. One was from Jessica and he sighed that he had neglected her support over the past couple of days. It was hard knowing how to reply to text messages at the best of times and his mind had been far too occupied to summon a response. He read every message but replied to none. The flat was quiet and the sofa so comfortable in comparison to the hard hospital chair that Ethan finally felt that sleep would be a possibility. He allowed his eyes to shut and told himself half an hour wouldn't hurt.

By the time he awoke it was nearly nine.

He jumped up and rubbed his eyes. The gesture made it no easier to keep them open. His head was spinning and he couldn't decide if it was because he'd moved too quickly or that he hadn't eaten for almost 24 hours. He grabbed the bag with Cal's belongings in and rushed out the front door, not even stopping to get changed or brush his teeth.

By the time he got back to the hospital, Ethan's head was pounding with horrible possibilities of things that could have gone wrong. In the lift, he muttered to himself, berating himself for leaving Cal on his own, for chancing closing his eyes for a minute, let alone several hours. His hands were shaking and he burst through the doors to Cal's side room with images of resuscitation on his mind.

Instead, Cal was sat upright in bed, demolishing a bowl of cereal. He paused with the spoon half way to his mouth. "Have you been running?"

Ethan dumped the bag on the end of the bed and put his hands on his hips as he tried to catch his breath. "No."

"You need to get back to the gym, Nibbles."

Ethan frowned and scrutinised his brother's face for an explanation of the sudden change in temperament. Although Cal's voice was still distorted due to his swollen lip and fractured cheekbone, he sounded almost himself. "I brought you some things," Ethan said, slowly.

"Thanks, bro," Cal replied. "You look horrible, by the way."

The retort was on the tip of Ethan's tongue but, remembering Cal's reaction last night, he swallowed the insult. "I would imagine I smell too," he said, with a nervous grin.

Cal shook his head, smiling as much as his facial injuries would allow. "You're so weird." He shovelled the last spoonful of cereal into his mouth and pushed the bowl away. "Don't suppose you've got a bacon sandwich in that bag, have you? I'm starving!"

The smile faded from Ethan's lips as he realised that his brother's throwaway use of the word starving was far too accurate.

"Ethan?"

"No, sorry, I haven't."

Ethan utilised the silence to unpack everything he'd brought for Cal. He refolded the t-shirt and placed it among the other items in the bedside cabinet. Although the cupboard was small, it still looked far too bare and he wished he had thought of more things to bring, an ornament or something else from home. He shuffled awkwardly. Although he was intentionally avoiding looking at Cal, he was certain that his brother was watching him.

"Ethan."

"Hmm?" Ethan continued pointlessly moving things around in the cupboard to delay the moment he would have to turn back and see the evidence again of what his brother had been though.

Cal sighed. "Stop thinking so much," he said. "I'm going to be okay."


	16. Chapter 13

Thanks for the reviews! I was worried that instead of writing Cal having mood swings, it just seemed that I was just writing him inconsistently, so thanks for the reassurance, I'm glad you could tell that he wasn't as okay as he seemed.

This is the penultimate chapter, the next one being an epilogue from Cal's perspective. I have not started writing this yet, but will aim to get it up a bit quicker than the last two chapters.

I hope you enjoy this chapter and would love to hear your feedback.

* * *

Chapter 13

"I'll put the kettle on," Ethan said, as they crossed the doorway into the flat. "Just stay on the sofa and take it easy."

He waited patiently as Cal shuffled into the lounge. Although he'd had no injuries to his legs, the pain in his ribs and the weakness from his injuries made every movement slow.

Cal looked at the sofa as if it was alien to him. "Actually, Ethan, I just really want a bath."

"I'll run you one."

"I can manage."

"Leave the door unlocked though, just in case."

Cal rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever."

While Cal was gone, Ethan boiled the kettle and made two coffees anyway. He flicked through the channels until he found some mindless programme that seemed like the kind of thing his brother liked to watch, and waited patiently for him to return.

Ethan drained the coffee mug and put it back on the coaster, amused as realisation hit him that he had finished both drinks rather than just his own. Over the past few days, balancing shifts and frequent hospital visits, he had become even more reliant on the stuff than usual.

He was just beginning to worry about how long his brother had been, when he hobbled back into the room, hair still glistening with water. Cal joined him on the sofa. He lent back against the cushions but as he was still holding the top half of his body stiffly he looked far from comfortable.

"I see you made the most of me being kidnapped to have a good spring-clean."

"No, I-" Ethan stammered. "This was just- I did it yesterday, actually, before you came home."

"I'm joking," Cal said. "Relax."

"Oh." Ethan forced a smile. "Right. Ha-ha!"

"Still, flat looks good. I should get hospitalised more often."

Ethan tried to laugh but the noise that came out sounded more like a strangled groan.

"Still joking," Cal prompted. "Lighten up, Nibbles."

Ethan shifted in his seat so he could face his brother. "Caleb, I'm not sure it's right to be so frivolous about all of this."

Cal frowned and pulled an exaggerated impression of being deep in thought. "Nope, don't get it," he said. "If I can laugh, why can't you?"

"Because I'm struggling to find anything that's even remotely humorous."

Cal huffed. "Most people would be glad I was staying positive."

"Most people don't know you as well as I do."

Cal shrugged. "I'm fine, Ethan. Honest."

* * *

Ethan discharged his third patient of the day and smiled as he watched him leave the building. The young man had been suffering vomiting and diarrhoea for less than 24 hours, but was so convinced it was a result of a beef burger he had eaten at a restaurant a week and a half ago that he had come to the ED hoping to wangle a Doctors letter to use to sue the company. He hadn't been satisfied with Ethan's explanation that, had the beef burger been to blame, the onset of the illness would have happened much earlier and was of the belief that he needed strong medication rather than over-the-counter tablets and plenty of fluids.

Once, Ethan might have struggled to get rid of the man, but today he barely shook as he told the man he was discharged and therefore he needed to leave. Ethan's smile splintered slightly as he realised the reason behind his sudden confidence boost. Breaking into a house and rescuing his brother from dangerous thugs may be scarier than anything he would have to deal with on shift, but he'd tolerate living with a constant fear of angry men if it meant Cal hadn't had to go through any of that.

On cue, Lofty appeared by his side. The nurse scratched his head with a biro and almost winced as he made eye contact. "So how's Cal doing?"

"Yeah," Ethan replied. "He's fine."

He watched as Lofty's face readjusted into a much more natural expression. "Good," he said. "Good. Tell him I owe him a pint or two, next time he's out."

Ethan nodded. "I'll pass that on."

Ethan scribbled his patient's final notes onto the file, his writing even messier than usual. He frowned. His colleagues all accepted his reiteration of Cal's standard line that he was fine, without even a second consideration. It was easier, Ethan supposed, to believe that than it was to worry about the alternatives. And they didn't have to deal with Cal's inappropriate jokes all day and panicked yells as he awoke from nightmares every night.

He had tried to talk to Cal about his dreams and his brother had laughed at him – _you're finally losing the plot, Nibbles, I slept like a baby. I always do!_ Ethan had sighed and grunted and folded his arms and Cal had looked at him blankly like they were speaking separately languages.

Ethan was roused from his thoughts as his name was called and a patient on a trolley was rushed past him into Resus. He pushed his glasses further up his nose and forced himself to switch into doctor mode. From that moment, his shift transitioned into such a busy one, he barely had time to think about his brother.

When he finally arrived home at the end of the day, his legs were weak from being on his feet for so long. He squinted as he tried to recall the contents of the freezer and the easiest thing to cook, but it had been a long time since he had done more extensive food shopping than bread and milk from the shop opposite the hospital. As he put the key in the door he heard the sound of two items clinking together and suddenly imagined the possibility of Cal cooking him dinner.

He was right about Cal being in the kitchen, at least.

"Beer?" Cal said, holding one bottle towards Ethan. The other, in his hand was already part finished.

He shook his head, as a distraction while he searched for his voice. "Cal, you can't drink while you're still on those codeine tablets."

Cal took a long swig. "I've stopped taking them."

"Why?"

"I don't need them anymore."

Ethan gawped at his brother. Although less alarming, Cal's face was still covered in a multitude of bruises and his cheekbone was yet to return to its normal size. Cal had been more careful than usual to cover himself when returning from the shower or lounging round the flat, so Ethan had been unable to see how his chest injuries were healing, but he knew broken ribs and the incision from the chest drain were both notorious for ongoing pain and that there was no way his brother was ready to manage without strong painkillers.

Cal raised his eyebrows and drained the bottle.

"Stop it," Ethan said.

"You're so bloody boring," Cal replied. He slammed the bottle he had offered Ethan onto the work surface and hacked it open.

"And drinking's entertainment, is it?"

"I have watched hours and hours of quizzes and house hunting and who even cares about some old lady's antiques?!"

"Okay," Ethan said. He took a calming breath. "Daytime TV is torturous, I agree. Why don't we do something, go somewhere?"

Cal stared at his bottle and shook his head.

"Caleb, you do know you're safe, don't you? No-one can hurt you now."

"Yeah, I know," Cal said, quickly.

"Then what's stopping us?" Ethan forced a smile and ignored the rumbling of his stomach. "Let's go for a walk, I'm sure we could both do with some fresh air."

"Another time, yeah, Ethan." Cal took another mouthful of his beer and wandered back into the lounge.

Ethan watched as his brother slumped onto the sofa, doing very bad job at disguising a stab of pain.

* * *

Ethan woke with strong suspicions that someone was prowling around his flat. If he wasn't already certain of the culprit, he might have been concerned, but he was well aware that night was not a time of peace for his brother.

He squinted at the alarm clock and sighed at the time. Quarter-past three. As he climbed out of bed, he mentally counted the few hours left before he had to be ready for work. He grabbed his dressing gown and was still battling his way into it as he opened the door to the lounge.

Cal was standing in the middle of the room with his back to him.

"Alright?" Ethan asked.

Cal's shoulders jolted as he was pulled from his thoughts. As he whirled around in shock, Ethan caught a glimpse of his face. His eyes were red and his cheeks were blotchy.

Cal looked away again. "God, Nibbles, don't creep up on me like that."

"Sorry," Ethan said. He took a seat on the sofa, leaving plenty of space for his brother, in the hope he would join him. "Can't sleep?"

Cal made a choking noise. "I _can_ sleep; I just don't like what happens when I do."

"Cal, you need to speak to someone. A counsellor, or-"

"No," Cal replied, instantly. "Don't be stupid. I don't need some stranger feeding me with psych babble, telling me how I should feel."

"Talk to me, then?"

Cal took a seat next to him on the sofa. There was a long pause. Ethan watched in anticipation. Cal's lips moved as if he was about to say something but he couldn't seem to form the words. After battling with himself for a few minutes, a lone tear snaked its way down his cheek. He wiped it away furiously, but it was soon followed by another.

"Cal."

Cal took a loud and shaky breath. "Every time I close my eyes I'm back there, Ethan," he said, his voice little more than a whisper. "I thought I was going to die in there."

Ethan's chest throbbed. He gently laid his arm across his brother's shoulders and was taken by surprise when Cal curled up against him. They were close enough now for him to feel the shudders coursing through Cal's body.

Tears tainted Cal's face, but he didn't bother to wipe them away. Instead he buried his head against Ethan's chest. His hands desperately clutched at Ethan, grabbing his arm and his dressing gown and squeezing tight as if he was trying to prevent himself from falling. Cal's breaths fell heavily and it only took a few seconds before his gasps turned to heart-wrenching sobs. He cried like a small boy rather than a man, loud and irregular, with sounds not unlike small screams pulsing between gulps and tears.

Ethan felt strange holding his big brother so close, but had no intention of letting go and risking Cal breaking even further. His own eyes stung and he blinked repeatedly, determined to keep his emotions at bay and stay strong for the man in his arms. After minutes that felt like hours, Cal's sobs slowly subsided. His body relaxed slightly but he didn't move from his position leaning against Ethan's chest.

Finally, when he had regained some level of composure, Cal sniffed and took a deep breath. "I've done some shitty things, Ethan, I know that. To you, to mum, to lots of girls." His voice was muffled by the fabric of Ethan's dressing gown. "I thought, maybe, I deserved it."

"No," Ethan said. "No. You've made mistakes, but no-one deserved what you went through."

"But I must've," he said. "How else could they have done that to me?"

Ethan tightened his grip on his brother. "Some people are just inherently bad." He thought about the reasons behind the brothers' cruel attack. "And some people are just so messed up as a result of their past, that they can no longer see right from wrong."

"It was Dad who messed them up."

"Yeah," Ethan said. He rested his chin on top of Cal's head. "Dad. Not you."

Cal made noncommittal grunt.

"It's going to be okay, Caleb. You just have to give it some time."

Cal shuffled so that he was no longer cuddled against his brother, but sat closely on the sofa. His cheeks were still damp and his eyes were red and puffy. "I don't want to give it time," he said. "I want to feel normal now."

Ethan nodded. "I know you do. It might help if you start doing normal things; stop watching repeats of Come Dine With Me and go into town, to the pub if you must! People at work want to see you, you know."

Cal's bottom lip trembled and he bit it. "Will you come with me?"

"Of course I will." Ethan paused. "I'm going to phone in sick tomorrow, and we'll go somewhere. No excuses!"

Cal gave a weak smile. "My little brother pulling sickies! What's happened to you?"

Ethan titled his head to one side and awkwardly grinned. "Wait until you hear about when I nearly got suspended!"

"No, sorry, I don't believe you."

Both brothers chuckled. The sound was a stark contrast to the harsh sobs that had filled the flat only a few minutes ago and Ethan immediately felt as if the room had got lighter.

"Eth?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. For- you know."

Ethan shook his head and put his hand on top of his brothers. "I think you needed to let it all out."

"You're probably right. As always!" Cal put his arm around Ethan's shoulders this time and pulled him closer. "All the time I was there, all I wished for was to get out alive. And, thanks to you, I did. So now it's time to start living."


	17. Epilogue

Time for the last chapter!

I want to thank every single one of you who has read or reviewed this story. You're lovely feedback has made me smile and kept me writing. I can't quite believe I've made it this far as most multi-chapter stories I've written that are longer than about four parts have remained unfinished.

I toyed with the idea of an unhappy end to the story, following with a sequel revolving around Cal struggling to coming to terms with what happened to him, drinking, sleeping around, a possible PTSD diagnosis and generally going off the rails. In the end, I felt that I wouldn't have enough material to keep that story going for that long, and so had a total change of heart. Instead, this is a fairly uneventful chapter (trying not to spoil much!) but I wanted to show some sense of normality after all the crazy things in their lives. It's not the chapter I'm proudest of, but I hope it's a satisfying enough ending.

I have a couple of half-written things and hundreds of ideas rattling around in my head, so I'm sure you'll hear from me again soon, but I would really appreciate it for now if you could click on the review button one more time. I would be over the moon to get up to 60 reviews if that is possible.

I hope you enjoy the final part.

* * *

Epilogue

Cal climbed out of the shower and stared at himself in the full length mirror. His torso was still various shades of blues and browns but they were lighter than they once were. He fingered the scar that ran horizontally across his ribs, caused by the chest drain. It was still red but the scabs were beginning to flake away, leaving a paler line and the impression of a slight indent.

His rib bones were too prominent for his liking, having lost weight throughout the time he was held captive. He had tried to make the most of it, eating as many pizzas and steaks as he could, but he lacked the pride he had once had in his physique. He longed for the day he could get back to the gym but both Ethan and his doctor had banned it until he was fully recovered.

Ghosts of bruises littered his face, but the only severe one that remained was across his cheekbone. A rough cut that refused to heal marred his bottom lip. His broken nose was only a fraction misshapen, meaning that the NHS wouldn't fix it for free. Ethan had assured him that the change was unnoticeable but Cal was determined to save up to get it put back to its previous condition.

For him, the injuries were a brutal reminder of what he had gone through and he was impatient for them to heal. However, he had to admit that they gave him a certain roguishly handsome appearance. Only yesterday, at the coffee shop, the pretty barista had winked at him and given him an extra-large coffee for the price of a small. He'd heard that women liked a bad boy and wondered if he could entice some ladies with a fictitious version of events.

As he towelled himself dry, he heard Ethan on the phone, chatting more animatedly than was typical. He wrapped the towel around his hips and crept out of the bathroom, positioning himself flat against the wall next to Ethan's bedroom. A smile crept onto his face as he realised the nature of the conversation but waited patiently until his brother ended the call.

He pushed open the door and swung into the room. "So," he said, "Who's Jessica?"

Ethan dropped his phone in surprise. "It's polite to knock first, Caleb."

"But then I miss that shocked expression on your face." Cal grinned. "Well?"

"She's no-one. She's a patient."

"A patient that has your mobile number. I'm not sure that's acceptable, Nibbles!"

"She's not a patient anymore."

"Is she fit?"

Ethan made a choking noise and was suddenly consumed by a bout of coughing. "What?" he eventually managed to ask.

"Fit." Cal said. "You know, hot, sexy, beautiful. Is she beautiful, Nibbles?"

To Cal's amusement, Ethan's cheeks began to glow. He made a show of taking of his glasses and polishing them with his handkerchief. Cal was momentarily distracted to wonder if his brother was the only man their generation to still use such an item.

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

"She's pretty, yes, if you must know."

"Have you kissed her yet?"

"Caleb!"

"Well, have you?"

"It- it's not like that," Ethan said, "We're friends. She's been supporting me while…"

Cal knew his brother was trying to find a polite way to describe the period while his own whereabouts were unknown.

"…over the past few weeks," he eventually finished.

Cal nodded. "She sounds like a keeper, bro. Make sure you ask this one out."

"Oh, no I couldn't, I-"

"Of course you could. It's easy. Just open your mouth and ask." Cal grinned. "Try not to let that stammer creep in though."

Ethan glared at him. "For goodness sake, go and get dressed. Mrs Beauchamp won't be happy if you're late on your first day back."

Cal saluted and slunk from the room. He knew Ethan had a point though, especially seeing as his boss had been reluctant to have him back so soon and had finally compromised by agreeing to a phased return, which he'd moped about for days. His sulk only ended when he received an updated copy of the rota and discovered his first few shifts back were synced with Ethan's. His brother claimed to know nothing about it so Cal didn't pursue the subject but he strongly suspected it was more than a coincidence.

He hastily threw on jeans and a t-shirt and packed a scrub top to change into. He looked in the mirror again and examined his bruised cheek. Short of stealing some makeup from Robyn or Lily there was little he could do to disguise it and so could do no more than hope patients wouldn't ask difficult questions. He swallowed a couple of pre-emptive painkillers and grabbed his ID card from where it lay discarded on his bedroom floor. Ethan was already waiting at the front door, tapping his foot and checking the time.

"Ready?" his brother asked.

Cal didn't know whether he meant literally or psychologically but nodded anyway. "Ready and raring, little brother." He slung an arm around Ethan's shoulders and steered them towards the car.

By the time they entered the building he was feeling a little light headed from nerves. With Ethan's encouragement they had gone for a drink last week with Max and Lofty; it had been a much more sombre affair than their usual antics but had helped him feel less out of the loop and had been a pleasant change from the same four walls. However, they still greeted him as if they hadn't seen him in ages and wherever he went he had someone else pat his shoulder and welcome him back.

He was relieved to find he was working in cubicles as Resus still felt like a strange place to him now that he had experienced it from the other perspective. However, what he wasn't anticipating was quite how tiring it would be. He paused for a sacred moment between patients and leant on the nurse's station, trying to figure out why three of his patients were about to breech. They were all simple injuries that should be treated well within the time frame and he was working as fast as he could. He shook his head, unable to come up with an explanation.

Ethan appeared at his side. "How's it going?"

Cal straightened himself, wincing at a familiar twinge from his rib. "Can't talk right now, Nibbles," he said. "It's madness out here." Despite his proclamation he made no attempt to leave.

Ethan made a show of looking around him at the relatively low number of patients. "I think I must be in need of stronger glasses," he said, with a slight chuckle.

"Very funny." Cal sighed and resumed his positon, hunched over the work surface. "I've got three about to breech. And on top of that, there's this kid in cubicle five – Joel. His mum won't stop flapping. How am I meant to get everyone seen in time, when she's insisting I run every test twice?!"

"What are the symptoms?"

"There aren't any! Not really. Slight cold last week, couple of bruises from an old playground incident, been quiet all morning apparently – although if that's quiet, I dread to think what he's like normally!"

"Munchausen's?"

"It crossed my mind but I'm sure it's not that. There's something else going on."

Ethan frowned and pushed his glasses further up his nose. "Want me to give a second opinion?"

"No," Cal said, "I think they're beginning to trust me." He hesitated for a few seconds. "I don't suppose you fancy doing a couple of discharges for me though?"

Ethan held his hand out for the files. "Fine. But it won't be a regular thing, Caleb."

Cal sprung up with a sudden boost of energy. "Cheers, bro!" He dashed off towards the cubicle before his brother could change his mind.

The boy, Joel, made his life unexpectedly easier when he started complaining he was hungry. His mum rebuffed the idea of the vending machine as it was far too unhealthy, but was eventually cajoled into visiting the canteen to buy a sandwich. Cal knew there would be a queue and used the opportunity to talk to the child.

"You can tell me the secret, Joel," he said. "You're not really poorly, are you?"

"No, Silly," Joel replied, with a solemn shake of his head, "It's not me, it's my mummy."

Cal sat down on the bed next to his young patient. "And what's wrong with your mummy?"

Joel shrugged and looked down at his knees. "She looks like you," he said.

Cal frowned, trying to shake the idiotic thought from his head that Joel's mum was a man. When realisation finally dawned on him, he felt as if he was knocked backwards and had to steady himself by placing a hand on the mattress. "Do you mean she has bruises?"

"Everywhere."

"Do you know how she got them?"

"I'm not allowed to tell," he said.

Cal's head started to ache at the thought of a tactic. He didn't want to get into this discussion with anyone, especially not a six year old boy on his first day back at work, but he couldn't think of another possibility. He took a deep breath. "It was a very bad man who gave me these bruises," he said, indicating his face. "And another bad man who gave me these." He pulled his scrub top high enough so Joel could see the lowest of the bruises on his chest.

"Did they hate you?" Joel's eyes were wide.

"I think they must have done," Cal said. "But that doesn't excuse what they did. No-one is allowed to hurt someone else."

Joel was silent for a long time. "But it's not a bad man who gives mummy her bruises," he eventually said. "It's just my daddy."

Cal closed his eyes. He felt the tension evaporate as Joel admitted the truth. "It's not okay though, is it?" he said. "Not if your mum gets hurt."

Before Joel could reply, his mum burst back into the cubicle. She looked from Cal, to her son and back again, then burst into tears, a cheese sandwich cradled in her arms.

Most of the remainder of Cal's shift was spent comforting her and arranging a refuge for her and Joel to stay in while they applied to the court for a non-molestation order against her husband. Having used comparisons from his own experiences, he felt emotionally drained as well as physically and was struggling to keep his eyes open as he waited in the staff room for Ethan.

His brother joined him on the sofa and groaned. "Did you really need to hand over every single one of your inebriated patients to me?"

Cal grimaced. "So, if I said I owed you a pint…"

"I would say I now have enough evidence of drunken lunacy to put me off for life."

"Pretty sure you've said that before."

"That's just from being witness to your antics," Ethan replied, with a grin.

Cal returned the smile. "Can we go home, Ethan? I'm tired."

"Thought you'd never ask!"

The brothers climbed to their feet. Cal's whole chest was aching now, having been too busy to keep topped up with painkillers. He was conscious that he was probably holding himself funny as he walked and hoped none of his colleagues were watching too carefully.

They were just about to leave the ED when Cal realised Ethan had stopped. He turned in time to see him stammer a hello to an attractive young woman. He retraced his steps and wrapped an arm around his little brother's shoulders.

"Care to introduce me?" he said.

Ethan blushed and threw him a clear looking of warning – _don't embarrass me Caleb, remember how many patients I helped you with today!_

"Caleb, this is Jessica. Jessica – Cal."

Cal held out his hand and shook the women's hand. "Nice to meet you, Jess," he said. "I've heard a lot about you." He didn't falter at the lie. Ethan being Ethan, of course, had disclosed next to nothing during their conversation that morning, but Cal could tell straight away that he liked her.

He agreed with Ethan's declaration that Jessica was pretty. He felt a little guilty as he admired her good figure and alluring eyes, but brushed the feeling away. He was only human. Besides, although he could appreciate her looks, she was more Ethan's type than his. Jessica had an aura of innocence around her, whereas Cal preferred women with a mischievous side.

"Hi," Jessica said, registering Cal's discoloured cheek. "You must be the brother."

"That's me!"

"Why are you here?" Ethan interrupted. "I mean- You're not ill are you?"

"No," Jessica smiled. "I was hoping I'd bump into you actually."

"Me? Oh, crumbs."

"Did you not want to see me?" she said, her smile wavering.

Cal rolled his eyes. Whatever emotion his brother was intending, it really wasn't coming across. "Of _course_ he wants to see you," he said. "And he'd love to buy you a drink tonight."

"But, I-" Ethan said. "Only, I thought you needed taking home."

"I'll be fine," Cal said. He forced a smile and hoped it looked as reassuring as possible. "Enjoy yourselves." He patted Ethan on the back and shoved him forward slightly.

Ethan cleared his throat. "Jessica," he said, "would you do me the honour of accompanying me for a drink?"

"I would love to."

Ethan held his arm out and Jessica willingly linked with it.

Cal stared thoughtfully at their retreating backs. His chest suddenly throbbed with emotion. "Wait!" he shouted. He half limped, half jogged after them. "Jessica, there's something you need to know about Ethan," he said. He ignored his brother's worried glare. "Ethan – my brother – he's the best man in the entire world."

Her lips curved into a warm and genuine smile. "I'll remember that."

Cal nodded, finally chancing a look at his brother. Ethan was bright red but looking as chuffed as he did surprised.

"I meant it," Cal said quietly, his words aimed only for Ethan. Not only had his younger brother saved his life but he was helping him rebuild it too.


End file.
